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I'll never know her like I do tonight. Hazy hazel eyes alive with the low-battery alert on her phone. She floats in the thoughts I throw her; Spinal cord melts under the electric current of her brain.         She looks for dreams. Body stretched like mountains, foothills and ranges cradle the sky and trace seas like her signature. She made the mountaintop in her image. She cups my head, with the numb of the low-buzz of her caffeinated thoughts telling me the secrets of the world. Knowing her place teaches me mine.          I belong with her: heart, blood, and sky. She sits with me and feels human. I sink back into the gentle waves of her voice. The only thing she speaks is body, so write a story on my skin. She asks me to translate into words the exact shift of her kisses, and I take a deep breathe and dive into her     again           and                again. Words follow strict rules in her room, but tonight we leave caution on her floor, in favor of the cause and effect of her spheres of influence pulling insecurity apart, one filthy, dark thought at a time. Maybe, she'll fill me with a vocabulary God can't forgive. Like invisible ink, she stains the individual cells of my being with her. 'Till all I can read are the words she left all over me. My hands, my thighs, my head.         Surrender, give it all to me: mind, thoughts, and sea.
0
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 9:56 PM UTC
God on the Mountaintop
I'll never know her like I do tonight. Hazy hazel eyes alive with the low-battery alert on her phone. She floats in the thoughts I throw her; Spinal cord melts under the electric current of her brain.         She looks for dreams. Body stretched like mountains, foothills and ranges cradle the sky and trace seas like her signature. She made the mountaintop in her image. She cups my head, with the numb of the low-buzz of her caffeinated thoughts telling me the secrets of the world. Knowing her place teaches me mine.          I belong with her: heart, blood, and sky. She sits with me and feels human. I sink back into the gentle waves of her voice. The only thing she speaks is body, so write a story on my skin. She asks me to translate into words the exact shift of her kisses, and I take a deep breathe and dive into her     again           and                again. Words follow strict rules in her room, but tonight we leave caution on her floor, in favor of the cause and effect of her spheres of influence pulling insecurity apart, one filthy, dark thought at a time. Maybe, she'll fill me with a vocabulary God can't forgive. Like invisible ink, she stains the individual cells of my being with her. 'Till all I can read are the words she left all over me. My hands, my thighs, my head.         Surrender, give it all to me: mind, thoughts, and sea.
(to the girl Brazil designed but never signed)
Pigeon
Written by
18/F
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 9:56 PM UTC
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