A version of you goes drifting through the fragile corridors between my brain and my heart. You're there. You're whole. Wholly you. Wholly true.
My fingertip's memories trace the grooves left behind by 11 to 48-gauge nickel-wounds. Rough yet tender yet penetrating. Your fingertips.
My pulse's rhythm matches the pounding.. I mute the world to hear your song. Welcomed delirium kicks in as you hit the chorus, with sound waves rebounding off the walls of my organs; making them warm.
And yet through all the madness- the pacing, the pounding, the illusions, the pain.... You're there. You're you. Wholly you. Wholly true.
