the page is dead
to reach a longed-for end
holding on to every last bit
a condensed breath

sunned down black car
summer heat and sweaty palms
malboro gold in hand
lips moving towards mine

your face between my legs
a comfort I never felt when touched
bodies there in white cotton sheets
we leave nothing but stains to be retrieved

with those aimless hands
we seek each other's spots
practice to be repeated
undisclosed desire