I tag every piece of you I can see and not see

when I run out of ink,                    I prick out

my own warm blood.                        you grin

and I dabble myself all over your boxed life,

stain your breath

and call it my breath,

smudge your memories

and name them my memories.

I say                             isn’t it so wonderful to

be in love, my love?                But you didn’t,

couldn’t answer.              Just the night before

I had wrapped                                   your ears

in layers of cellophane,

shipped them to my                hidden universe.

Tamara L. Panici is constantly scribbling on food wrappers and scraps of paper. When she is not reading or writing, she can be found eating bizarre foods, riding the bus to nowhere, or lifting heavy weights. She has works forthcoming in Fjords Review, Flash Fiction Magazine, and Abyss & Apex.