Our lungs inflate and deflate, slowly
As my fingers idly trace the small of your back
With eyes and mouths shut
Our souls linger somewhere over our bodies
Your weight pressed against me contrasts sharply
With our ghostly counterparts
Intimately congealed
In a way our flesh fails to match
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Our lungs inflate and deflate, slowly
As my fingers idly trace the small of your back
With eyes and mouths shut
Our souls linger somewhere over our bodies
Your weight pressed against me contrasts sharply
With our ghostly counterparts
Intimately congealed
In a way our flesh fails to match
