i want to run my fingers
along rock carved
thousands of years ago.

i want to feel the same cold
that ancient hands did
under my own.

i want to stand
where history happened.

let it shiver through my body.

feel the ghosts of people
long buried.
long forgotten.

find phantoms
in cobbled streets:
old and hidden.

to listen to tales
lost and buried
beneath city stone.

Giving my word that this time I will change
Promise kept for once indeed is something strange
Read lips when I say to you "Help me stay strong"
Painting your flaws red will always feel wrong
The way to reach goals is to grow to rely
On each other til the storm passes us by
It's learning to trust without question or concern
In rain until this painful period is adjurned
Waiting for strength to flood limbs
Clear each cloud away that dims
To dance on fingertips so near
Keep looking but it never reappears

I brush your spine with my fingertips
I kiss the lines that lead to your treasure chest
I rest in the enigma, I rest in your charisma
Waiting to explore your oceans
Can't resist you, your gaze has me frozen
frozen in the moment, velvet kisses on your mind like a poet
lean into it, lean into the moment

Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers.
On your pillow.
In your arms.
Imagine, you press your thumb to
my lower lip, and you can hear my heart
beating like a hammer.
You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and
you teach me a new language with your mouth.
You touch me with intention.
Imagine, I let you. I uncurl.
Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches
you so softly, I could scream.
And the exquisite truth of it all is,
that if you ever did get to touch me,
I think I would die.

the oppressive sun
bludgeons away weakness
melts off my fingertips

a gleaming android
ruby red and autumn gold -
a human unfolds

I used to conjure flames from my fingertips without a thought
And used them to scorch foreign poetry into your skin

I run my fingers slowly
over the lips of another;
just to see.
But those lips
don’t brush as tenderly
against my tips
as yours did,
my original lover.