each of you has written upon my body

the story of moments shared, in tenderness,
in urgency, tracing lines across my skin,
dropped kisses here and there and there—

so long ago that my memory cannot easily
summon it—but love stored in too-soon-
to-melt flesh holds it close,

deep in the marrow, tucked into cells
like the sweetest hugs—each encounter
a kind of kiss that returns

at the oddest times—like driving into
a winter sunset, one that begs me
to stop the car, pull over and

stand in the cold to commemorate
in pixels what can only truly be
registered by heart,

to feel a gasp at the gorgeousness
of last light that sends shivers of
recall down my spine,

a thank you on my lips that somehow
still remember yours and yours
and yours.