Let's cut out our tongues. We'll hang them from the empty wires in my backyard and dance around them like soulless heathens or wear them around our necks in remembrance of the days we spent too much time talking and not enough time touching or loving.
We'll throw them away or feed them to the dogs that live in the alley by that park next to the highway because We don't need them! We don't want them!
To speak, We'll stare-- and blink in rhythms: One blink, "I love you." Two blinks, "I miss you." Three blinks, "Stop effing blinking, you're freaking me out." Right wink, "Hi darling, how was your day?" Left wink, "It was marvelous, and now it's even better because you're here." --That's all we ever say anyway.
To kiss, We'll turn out the lights and hold our heads together like puzzle pieces and breathe each other's faces off, taking turns drowning in unwanted exhales. --That's all we ever do anyway.