i called your name through
my fingertips
and you answered , you called
back with the blinks of
your seas, the shiver of
your late autumn forests
and i could
taste the fresh breeze in my lungs.

toe to toe and lip to lip  is
the way i've learned your
outlines and your inlines,
your filled in
places and the places
where the ink bleeds through
the paper.

maybe if i painted a seaside,
maybe if i painted a forest
i could smear down the
silhouette of you