Slender arms I held,
but softly,
I was scared to bruise them further.
Looking at her
was like looking in her
the varied dimensions
and layers our bodies make below the skin.
I saved your voice mails
and wear your ring
but try not to hear what
these things are saying.
I'm not ready to hear you
in death
only in the gritty night
under my sheets
where I can talk to you
and pretend we are here
above the ground together.
Only in the glamour shots
I have of you,
placed on my dresser,
purposely hidden beneath clothes
so that you can surprise me
under there every once and a while.
I love you and I am scared of you,
and I'm sorry I hear you but am not yet
ready to listen.