She pours it out, a thimbles worth.
Exchanging it in equal measure,
how many times can she before
she is measurably not her own
She sews bits to bits.
Singing in rhythm of the times,
slips in the needle, out darts a tongue.
Joining that which can not be undone.
“There! That is a piece of me, in him.”
She strokes him above his heart
and leans in to hear his beat.
“His piece is here…” she thumps her chest
right above her heart “in me.”