Hhhhh ah.
Silently. Your eyelashes
cry out to me. Say,
come dance. He's gentle. Without
thinking, this is me wrapping your soul in arms made of clouds
Shhhhhh.
It is cold to the touch. Why?
Because I love you
with a blank canvas neck. I say.
Paint your passion
on me. Today,
I am the creases on soaking wet
hands.
Hold me.
Absorb this warmth. So
delicate. Like
I will become a sharp
shoulder blade
the minute you turn your back on me.
But rest easy
knowing
that I want you as innocently
as I can. You are blind
in this darkness. Use
your hands
freely.
Your fingertips are fresh
paint brushes. Finger paint
emotions,
let them run all over the
mountains
of my body.
Over hidden canyons
in glow in the dark
mattresses. Lay
here. This is where I lay.
Here.
With five senses
filled with wonder. I wonder how
loving you barely feels.
Feeling....
bare. I lay here
bare.
There is nothing building on me.
I've built butterfly homes
between each bare
limb.
Feeling
flimsy
like black and white films, what is
red here, is blue, is
you.
You are so
gentle. Delicate.
We are not just meat with
skin and bones.
We are tangled lovers.
Tangled between passion. We are
softly entangled.
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