FROM, ELIAS

i’m the closest to a man in your clothes
            taking the walk of shame
                  barefoot on campsite gravel to hide
                  the evidence of my begging 
              for your hands wrapped 
     all the way around my
 wrists

days later
     hands slipped under my binder
              asking where do they go
                    the same question i have
         with you flush to my pelvis tricking
     myself into believing i’m in your
t-shirt