By: Aekta Khubchandani
Hold me like you hold words
between paper pages of ink and type-
that paperback place
that once smelled of life.
Hold me like slices of meat
between your tongue and teeth
that glaze through butter
plated on a double bread spread.
Hold me dearly
like I’m your last cup of cappuccino
no sugar, less froth
with your mouth tasting of my last breath.
Hold me so closely
like we’re dancing
With my tips of toes on yours
to the sound of a bygone love song.
Hold me together at an affordable distance
leave me the rough draft of your leaving notice.
Don’t use that escape window
walk out at me through my front door.