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Dec 2015
The hairs on his chest form a heart
just below his throat;
my fingertips tenderly trace its edge beside my faint breath.

Sensitive,
his back arcs as a gentle smile meets with mine.

I only let people I really like see it,” he whispers softly,
placing his ear against my chest,
tapping the beat upon my cheek.
4.27.13
Emily K Fisk
Written by
Emily K Fisk  Buffalo; Syracuse; Boston
(Buffalo; Syracuse; Boston)   
479
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