There is a grip around your heart (my heart)
The hand is broad, strong
thick knuckles soft, torn around the nails to make layers of skin into tiny mountain ranges in glowing amber, blood only just dried around the edges
Another is around your throat, all the way around
thumb pressed against a pulse beating staccato erratic
a 200 bpm electronic stutter
catching jarring gasping
the pressure feels good
It lights something inside you burning around the wick
spreads from your chest down your arms till your fingertips burn with warmth
you press them to your face and you are wrapped under a thick blanket as it snows outside -
And then it is gone and the ice numbs your toes and you sit, in the bathtub, filled with water long gone cold wishing for it to warm you again
The foam on the waves crash gently against your ankles
bubbles and brings with it treasures from far away
The stones beneath your feet are sharp and cut tender flesh as you try to move
the salt stings but it is a sign you are alive
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