Voluntary Breath

These bold orange nights are filled with whispers

Bodies splayed out under an arrange of

amorphous solids.

Crammed fingers shoved under pillows

hesitance before a plunge

of forgotten silence.

Melodies playing in empty spaces,

lips made up of open fields

frayed nerves climbing through hair

palms pushing against planes of muscle

and a pencil falling long forgotten

hands on cheeks and collar bones

necks hot and airy and smells floating

and breaths made of small moan of tomorrow

every move is voluntary and I'm forced

to think about how to breathe.


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