I wish i knew how to knit

I wish I knew how to knit.



Friendship bracelets for the ones i never see

and fingerless mittens for the ones who call cigs a summer hobby

but still smoke out the window in deep winter

and maybe even baby blankets for the ones renting apartments

with an extra bedroom “just in case”.



Knitting seems like a good way to say things



And I wish I knew how to say goodbye without saying sorry.

How to look into your eyes and be truthful without hurting you.

How to hold you so you could heal.



Maybe I wish I knew how to knit so I could close up your wounds using colored threads,

creating sunflowers to cover the cuts I left on your peach-fuzz skin.



Oh I wish the fingers tracing my body now

knew how to make me come the way yours did.



But we grew our fingernails too long and

tenderness is impossible to wield with claws on.



I keep mine short these days.

I thought I started because it’s gayer,

then I said it was to play guitar,

but neither are fully true.



I keep them short so next time I run into you,

I can hug you without stabbing you.



God, I wish I knew how to find you again.



The love for my own limbs feels borrowed

in someone else’s sheets.