Let's cut out our tongues.
We'll hang them from the empty wires in my backyard and
dance around them like soulless heathens or
wear them around our necks in remembrance of
the days we spent too much time talking
and not enough time touching
or loving.
We'll throw them away or
feed them to the dogs that live in the alley by that park next to the highway because
We don't need them!
We don't want them!
To speak,
We'll stare-- and blink in rhythms:
One blink, "I love you."
Two blinks, "I miss you."
Three blinks, "Stop effing blinking, you're freaking me out."
Right wink, "Hi darling, how was your day?"
Left wink, "It was marvelous, and now it's even better because you're here."
--That's all we ever say anyway.
To kiss,
We'll turn out the lights and
hold our heads together like puzzle pieces and
breathe each other's faces off,
taking turns drowning in
unwanted exhales.
--That's all we ever do anyway.