Friction Dance
Tongues like knives,
fists full of want,
sparks in silence.
Bruised with need,
kiss or kill,
gripped by the words.
Dance of no retreat,
clash, then cling,
burn before touch.
Still breathing you in,
between fight and fall.
Wanting in spite,
love didn’t leave—
just changed
into fire.
We danced
on the line between
damage and desire.
This is our love,
fire,
teeth,
and everything
in between.
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