In you I speak a million unspeakable tongues;
like honey I let a language of love pour off the cliff of my top lip,
flow into the basin of your cupid's bow as we kiss.
There in that crevice is where you forcibly store the past of us;
there is no speaking anymore, we do not converse.
There is only the pointing of the blade inward
and the blood you let pool into your eyes when you look at me.