the child

my hands are 

dried grapes and soggy 

skin, they have been 

suffocating underwater far too 

long and need to

breathe. 

breathing air into 

youthful lungs and doe 

eyes, her innocence seeps 

like vitamin d

into my brittle 

bones. 

bones 

that once crumbled from the 

oppressive weight of the 

universe, now rebuilt by the 

indentations of her cheeks 

when she reveals 

a toothless 

grin. 

my grin splits 

to openly display the 

gums and exposed 

roots filled with minty 

porcelain rocks, no longer 

shame attached 

to the decay 

of life. 

life where 

in two separate spheres  

her palm fits into 

mine and i see 

a piece of her world 

in me.