(Un)Caged Girl

All these things belong to you:
the sun, the stars, and my favorite scarf
the cable and my coffee mug
the loofa you stole is yours now
I haven’t forgotten the heater
and my thumbs,
not to mention the saliva in my mouth.
The map of freckles on my cheekbones
your favorite one on my nose
that crinkles when you make me smile
the breath you stole right before I fell
and my exhale just before you hung up the phone
My ears, the part you used to touch
the sides of my neck where trails of kisses are left
and the palms of my hands.
Lastly, you own my sensation of touch,
I have no use for it anymore.

That leaves me with my lips, tongue,
hands, without the palm and the thumbs,
my elbows and my toes
and the feet attached to those
my teeth, eyes, and crinkled nose
my ability to taste nothing and something
that is not edible— my laugh, my voice.
Thankfully, I still have my thighs, knees,
and hair twisted round my fingers
my memories, the ones I choose to remember
even the ones I don’t want to,
the taste of you and the knot in my stomach
the running water, trickling down my skin
my cheeks, and my smile that I don’t need
the crumby bread and the melted cheese
the coffee without the mug,
my bed sheets , the sky, the moon,
and every other living, breathing thing,
except for you.

‎”This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, ‘Doc, uh, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.’ And the doctor says, ‘Well, why don’t you turn him in?’ The guy says, ‘I would, but I need the eggs.’ Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y’know, they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, but, I guess we keep goin’ through it because most of us… need the eggs.” - Woody Allen as Alvy Singer