Your body is not a language
But I know it by touch
I’d know you blind and deaf
The whorls of your fingerprints
Are as familiar to me as my own
Sometimes I don’t know
Which is which
I find myself getting our
Bodies confused and tangled
Forgetting where your skin ends
And my own begins
Even when we are apart.
Am I another person
Are you?
Would we really want to be
So separate that
Our skin becomes our own?