Pins and Need

pause 

the pin drops

what life sounds like here 

without those grainy fingers attached to those restless palms attached to those lanky arms attached to your brain

sweat pools on my forehead for loss of words; the way you strung them in the hallway; the way your smell lingers 

not always a pin

sometimes a pair of scissors falling on cold tile, echoes my discomfort

or the magnetic strum you plucked from my private inside

*

(Inspired by the photography and blog works of Michael Mundy)