|• B.A., on the sleeves — and that’s all •|
Your scent
has lodged itself in the sleeves.
Every movement
brings me back inside your mouth.
When I move my hair
there’s still something of you —
I don’t know where you end.
I brush it aside.
And your eyes return, on me.
The car is tight.
Knees pressed against.
Nothing gets in from outside.
I breathe in from your mouth
opening inside mine
and I already know who you are.
And who we used to be.
Then it passes.
B.A., on the sleeves — and that’s all.
V