in the margins of books kept hidden
in plain sight. I know your
cursive better than the
curve of your lip. I think about
how it would be to write ourselves
into each other's worlds and,
perhaps, get to trace the line of
brow. The crook of your elbow.
The apex of your jaw.
Learning to read the verse
from your skin; a story kept
for yourself until, here, we let
it breathe.
in plain sight. I know your
cursive better than the
curve of your lip. I think about
how it would be to write ourselves
into each other's worlds and,
perhaps, get to trace the line of
brow. The crook of your elbow.
The apex of your jaw.
Learning to read the verse
from your skin; a story kept
for yourself until, here, we let
it breathe.
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