watch me.
follow my fingertips as i trace thin trails
of desire down your freckled chest
i don't even know you.
watch me;
watch this as i draw thick lines of ink
in the palm of my hand
until there are only puddles of
black.
i don't even know you.
sometimes the leaves outside my window
shudder against the shutters like my fingertips
on your chest.
&i; don't even--
do i know you?
your eyes whisper lingering
on the liquid dripping down my
finger
tips
into soft puddles on the carpet--
(rain stains the ceiling tiles brown and bulging
and meanwhile the saxophone
plays the low end)&this; is only the beg
in
ning.
this is only the&i; don't even know you.
i don't even know you.