I imagine hands touching here, softly, gently,
he knows it's as delicate as my mind used to be.
Like my eyes, as he continues to brush my skin, it becomes wet.
I want your parts too.
The fingers move up into the natural crater of my pelvis, in between the two sharp hills that are three combined.
Ilium. Ischium. Pubis.
As they move up my stomach, they glide through ripples and waves and find a small canyon in between the sheltered structure that is my ribs.
For a moment, it's forgotten that under the earth is a cavern holding my heart. And it beats and it beats and it resonates through the state that is my body.
It beats as if it's been awoken.
Gallant and unafraid.
What is there to be scared of now?
My parts are your parts, too.
