Secrets lap at the edge of pouted lips
Pooling below the tongue, it sits all wrong
Fistfuls of curls in red polished fingers and a cracked bottle grazing at the wayside
Silence so soaked in sweat it hardly admits it's guilt
Cough drops held at the back of throats and little pinched baby thumbs pressed in balled up fists
Rough cotton, cool linen
Heaven coiled around flesh, around flesh, around flesh
Around breath, after breath, after breath.

The library is silent
Only these books can speak
But we have no time to listen
What perfect irony
To be trapped so long
Amidst these fading storytellers
And never hear them speak

2am, deadlines racing closer,
Racing the sun over the horizon
Muddled thoughts, blurry eyes
Rub them until you see straight
Until you can see the stars again
Third night this week
Panic gently, but make no sound
Reaching for the mug of bitter nectar
Panacea now, but the enemy tomorrow
Take a soothing sip, burn your tongue
Its hotter than these tears, taste nothing

One page down, four years to go
Drink your black, black coffee
Black as the night,
Black as ink flowing like blood
From one thousand pens
Flowing like dreams
From their arms
It's just another drug
Welcome back, old friend
Feel it deep in your bones
You are nothing here,
A drop of coffee on a white page
You are nothing in this library silent

Your fingers between mine
Warm breath on my neck
Hair tickling my nose
Your body wrapped around mine
My heart beating with yours
Cold feet against my legs
Hot hands under my shirt
Smooth skin under my fingertips
Your perfume in my throat
Hot breath mixed with mine