Our Little Secret
I hide the palm-sized wrappers
Between half-formed poetry stanzas
And a note-to-self.
We used to be more careful,
Our breathless whispers
Masked by Edward Elric
And the slam of fantasy alchemy.
Now we crash into each other
With the ferocity of half-starved animals
And merely hope no one hears.
I leave my prints upon your shoulders,
You leave your prints on my soul.
And sometimes, my throat.
I leave with your clothes on.
You leave with your hair mussed,
Every day I become a little closer
To replacing my body
With parts of yours.
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I loved writing this poem because it felt forbidden and sensual, like I was wading through taboos. I'm really not, but I still adore this particular piece for that feeling.