Chains


I am c-h-a-i-n-e-d;
chained to your bones,
to the crevice between your ribs and forearms,
between your fingers.
Chained to the aura that encompasses the places we've imprinted
with empty promises
and hazy conversations.

I am c-h-a-i-n-e-d
to your delicate lips and fractured eyes
that speak to me in foreign consonants and vowels.
Chained, to the effervescent words that slide off your tongue,
like dew slides off mushroom tops.

I am c-h-a-i-n-e-d
to you,
to places,
to memories,
that have taken root in my chest
and engulfed my veins.

You are a recurring blur in the midst of my thought process;
a permanent stain on my lips.
From the soles of my feet to the furrows of my brows,
I am blissfully chained to you.

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