Your hands;
the way they make and move
and illustrate the words that sear my lungs.
and illustrate the words that sear my lungs.
Too encumbered and hungry to voice them myself.
Your kisses like dew on the morning grass.
Our laughter: sudden like a summer storm.
If I could,
I'd tell you home is your lips pressed against my neck.
Your sonorous breaths, my metronome for the coming day.
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