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.  

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.