Before we became strangers, you gave me a perfume made of rosewater and pheromones. I sprayed it on my wrist, drew Sharpie lips over my jittering pulse. To love in perfect solitude is a privilege. I kissed and sucked my wrist. I left toothmarks and licked them.
When we met, I wove a bracelet from my hair to give you. Then I kept it for myself. Now I wear your smell on one wrist and my bracelet on the other. On bad days, I’m not sure which hand to cut off.