I experiment on you when you are sleeping. Gently I squeeze your earlobe. Your breath does not speed or falter. Rise. Fall.
Finger-soft I stroke the almost hair on the nape of your neck. Your shoulders twitch and settle. Relax now.
My hand rests on the curve of your stomach. Slowly I reach through your skin and up, behind your ribs. My fingers find your soul and, softly again, I fold over a silver corner. The edges blacken and stick. You will never know why you feel tarnished on days the sun shines.