My lips are cooing in shapes like
dear and deer and sweet,

in ah's and odes and destructive comparisons

like ghosts playing tug of war with no rope burn.

I am an arm's length from ooo and you

and today loving you feels

like trimming one half inch off my hair everyday.

I can't see your mouth from here but I know it is

dripping with salt and 'go back to sleep'

in rounded o's

and I am wondering if

maybe one day the edges of ourselves will drag against one another

and we'll grind to a halt on each other's skin.