Bathwater


His speech so subtle to quiet my aching ears
As the last droplets of light in the pink sky beg
My pores to open, to bathe in the noise of his silence
Soaked in, before we ever begin,
We'll grow slow with the shrubs he loves
A silk melody so I might sing
Until my voice grates still waters like skipping stones
What words will he choose to keep me in heat?
As the bathwater cools
For I am quick to dissolve in this temperate Spring stench
We fear for the morning,
Waking to fingertips in pruned paralysis
There is a loss of touch looming,
A blindness to his digging gaze budding in the drain
I hold still, devoured by his embrace
And the thick of Summer's approach dormantly lies naked on my neck
His eyes trace mine on collarbone shaped racetracks
Time is kept in our ribcages by red and green lights
What matters most now is the offbeat of broken hearts
In this room, where flickering flames toss and turn in the wind
O space, mighty space and time
and the time we'll waste
Until our skin sticks together once more like tan legs to leather
And the shaking earth can hold its breath
For us, no longer

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