We talk in whispers,
your voice a highway to my curves and
I find your hands to be an unspoken grace,
fingerprints designed with time bombs and missions
that rock like lily pads on an unsettled lake.
I've been considering my body a wetland lately,
there's a crocodile hunger in my bite and I'm always
craving for your love, but while my body breathes
a bed of milkweed I find poison in your touch
and our tongues double Dutch like we've
been speaking through laughs of subtlety -
too scared to be honest but it's your secrets
that flood my body with a flame and those
same secrets that create an atlas of ice.
I'm not sure why we've been hiding - always
have been dangling toes across maps of time
and I've been exploring a body no longer mine
that brought us to the brink of destruction while
we often ponder what could have ever happened
to the moonlight in the sky - it's been shaded
by the clouds for far too long now.
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