Tanned Skin
I lost my tongue
Probably somewhere in your bedroom where we explored every last inch of each other
For the final time.
You see in my memory
Our bodys were maps
Indiana Jones couldn’t measure our wanderlust.
I forgot my integrity
I think I dropped in between the seat of your car
When you first picked me up last spring.
Like all of those lighters
It slipped gently and quietly between the leather
I misplaced my independence.
It might be in a disguarded box
Maybe it happened when I helped you pack moved from that apartment you loved so much on Queen.
I imagine it somewhere forgotten
Behind the patio furniture in your moms garage.
I let go of my muse
Reaching into my stomach I tore out the last remaining butterflies
Opened my palms
And watched them fly away
Just as mesmerizing and bright as I recall when they arrived.
I remember now that I lost my tongue.
You did always adore the silence.
It was not body's we explored that day.
We discovered the end.
The unfair truth.
Every last inch of you.
©LKavanaugh