Your tongue forced like clothes pins
wetting cinnamon lips,
gnawing at the barrier of one another.
Sketching, Sketching,
Hands shaping you, catching you drawn paper
filed with the note no one left,
a skilled architect,
slowly tracing across your torso.
Dog- earring the pages of your book, inner knowledge;
pages written with pearl droplets of silk
incandescent from moon colored sweat.
Fusing pressed ribs together firm...
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