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Shelter
January 18, 2019
I remember the wrinkles
between your skin,
wrapped around your hands
like you’ve done this before.
How your brittle fingers would caress mine.
I remember smiling to myself
while tracing circles
on the backs of your knuckles.
You were a shelter—
a comfort to fall back to—
I always fell back to you.
Now I’m torn apart,
my limbs
don’t maneuver
my mind
doesn’t operate
and I am not, who I used to be.
© Jennifer W., Superior, CO
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