I guess this is the trip
of today’s triptych,
still surrounded by
hours of life reinvented

My feet are the same
though achey from lack of use
and my tongue is still in my head,
though less flapped

Our lingua franca
is now a babble of
isolation song

It’s not often
we sing together
so let’s be loud
and love proper hard

Your words are like honey
So quick
So smooth
They slip off your tongue
And leave me toute rouge

bare skin
separating lips
eyes closing
gentle fingertips
hands reaching
parting thighs
tongue searching
rosy skies
fluttering lashes
arching back
hands through hair
walls begin to crack
curving neck
swaying hips
hands on waist
biting lips

My heart
swelling
in my chest,
trying to stop
my tongue
from destroying this,
from destroying everything

But


"I can't..."

and just like that
our hearts stop

and it becomes too late

Before words were ever written
There were words.
Words that some what equate visibility.
This transparent line spoke 
Before my eyes found the cover of your face.
With this burning desire to speak
I dotted my tongue with ink &
Began writing along the page of your thighs,
Placing the period of my lips above your navel.
Before words were ever written
There were words,
How ever silent
I dotted my tongue in your ink &
scribbled the blank page in my affection.
Between the space of words, I hear you moan
With this burning desire to speak
I dotted my tongue in your ink &
Began writing along the page of your thighs
Without restriction

I opened my mouth to talk about the universe,
But my tongue only spelled your name.
I cut off my tongue to get rid of your curse,
Still it only whispered your name.