Massage & Bodywork Therapist

Hold my hand

What flew from your mouth,

stop my mind

fill my body with

your sound,

like an echo of emptiness—

endless.


Love met us,

mid stream struggle,

skin aching from

all this holding it together.


Did you see me

shedding layers

until I had nothing left

to withhold.


Hold my hand.

poetryMegan Bowser