audree
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Acoustic music makes me sick,
because the sound of it never becomes anything but
so sweet and lovely;
lovely like being outside and
just a little high and
When you leave and I’m alone and it’s warm and this smile is permanent
Because you didn’t leave and I’m not alone
And I try to crowd my mind with websites and Jane Austen and clever thoughts about modern literature
There are certain
things, little
things that I notice when we’re quiet in the way that speaks volumes
Sometimes I need conversation and meaning, but that quiet is one
thing that equals both, as if it could
I once had a friend who talked about a tongue and how heavy it was, how inherently powerful
Mine works over these words that repeat and these phrases that counter the work of your own tongue
bruises
little marks where your fingers dipped into my skin and left that impression
strong fingers, yours, touching and pressing and guiding my blood, my heartbeat
