Katrina Kaye

We forgot
how to touch.
Our bodies
merely go
through motion.

The pulse
and flex;
it is
too much.
It is
not enough.

You sleep
beside me,
only a
whisper away,
yet I can’t
remember
what your hands
feel like
on my body.

I like to
tell myself,
it is easy to
fall back into
place.

But these
pieces have
turned jagged,
misshaped,
rough to touch.

On nights
like this,
I prefer to
sleep alone.

“Pieces” is previously published in September (2014).