there are silk flies in the air. my skin is a nightstand. sit beside me. these are kisses i want to put in my pocket. the kind that should be framed and put on the wall. your lips are like falling from a plane, the way my heart goes all butterfly. my palms want to rest on your body. my skin wants to feel your skin. i want to touch you.
Friday, February 22, 2008
there are elevators inside your veins
there is a table. and four chairs. and some food. and people. the conversation is a series of strings going out from our chests and tying onto each other. there is light. and laughter. there are eyes. i can see the gaps between us. we are all cliffs, staring down, hoping nobody falls off our edges. there is a sky. and a moon. and the cold night on our skin. and there is warmth. i am not a prayer or a church. but i stand like both. i am learning.