Some people can touch you and make you feel clean. skin to skin. skin through clothes, a hand on the back, a finger on the pulse. it draws out the poison. you want to cry out and thank them for it. tell them how much it means to have that touch. to let go of the poison. instead you hold your breath. hold absolutely still. lest they take away that touch. lest they notice the poison flowing out and get disgusted. so you keep still and collect that touch. keep it in the deep recess of your memory. hold it there. you take it out carefully long after the touch is gone, when you get hungry, when you crave that clean white touch again and there is none around. you lick the memory slowly. deliciously. sparingly. you do not want to finish it all up in one go. that's why my darling, my sweet darling. you are a magpie. you are my magpie.
