3 arcs of a fevered mind

she laughed into the hand as suddenly as i found myself a hand that fisted hit turned lonelyness half pillow buried threatened to leave me empty as worry. a tear; is that it? as suddenly as i found myself as sad as rain or sand.

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if i could feel myself i would. that every crease and joint in my face has dripping become a pool of ache doesn’t count but should.

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the string is a chain around my funniest finger a reminder; i am a child in the glare as well the man who stares from behind her funny: fear straightens the finger till innocent again