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Jul 2015
I take the shortest path imaginable to be among stars lining meticulously staked kiosks

beaming like the sun's gentle rays at dawn in autumn

mid-slumber, we float
skin colliding and causing ripples like pebbles in a stream

the noise he makes at 3 AM send a shock through my tattered and fragile skeleton

stopping short below my waist
where i start questioning my beauty because society hates an un-perfect anatomy
somehow that's your favorite place

early spring morning eyes that could sedate the wildest stallion

lips and teeth
so familiar

for minutes we've sat in silence with our limbs tangled

I've been waiting so long

the separate paths we crossed are conjoined at fingertips and hips

walk with me until the sun is barely peaking out

we're spilling out like whiskey on a hardwood floor

how are we still so full?
Chloë Fuller
Written by
Chloë Fuller  Philadelphia
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