and say i miss the way your face feels
in between my hands;
the short quills of your porcupine jaw
rough against my raw, baby palms.
i'm pretty sad we can't
touch lips, petal to petal, whenever i get the urge
or stroke your cheek,
just 'cause,
while you're driving.
i can't look into your eyes
without doubting a single thing,
because i don't want you to think
that what's there is more than we have
and i don't want to be mistaken
that you feel more than you allow.
it would be easy to terminate
what we've got going,
but even if we can't be together,
why waste a second in love?
we can't form exposed parenthesis
or increase the surface area of skin in contact
but you can show me your world
and i can show you mine,
at least for now.
it'll be a shame when that stops,
too.
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