It's always your words that undress me.
Sobriquets, honeyed and multiple--
neck slowed over by narrator's
pale parlance. It's always my hands
that undress you. Motion diverse,
more adept than I expected. My
fingers feel separate and strange.
Our skin feels so starkly the same.
Dialectic crack in monologue,
made soft by the hot tongue of discourse.
Your open vowels morning-like, balmy.
I want you phonetically, fondly.
Our languages, various as Babel's.
We touch like snakes in love.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC
It's always your words that undress me.
Sobriquets, honeyed and multiple--
neck slowed over by narrator's
pale parlance. It's always my hands
that undress you. Motion diverse,
more adept than I expected. My
fingers feel separate and strange.
Our skin feels so starkly the same.
Dialectic crack in monologue,
made soft by the hot tongue of discourse.
Your open vowels morning-like, balmy.
I want you phonetically, fondly.
Our languages, various as Babel's.
We touch like snakes in love.
