a trickling of intent at the window
fingers seeking knees
losing count in desire
and in my hair
your one thousand fathom eyes
ascend my neck
while our mountains beckon honesty
(you climb quietly
as if it were there to be conquered
expecting you)
this moment is months out of sync
and too wet, too new
too prone to washing away
the space between us
crackles
you’ve been so far from me
so wrapped in unmade plans and worry
i forgot the simple rough of your cheek
your steady arm
your lived-in skin
Pleasantly productive
11 years ago
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