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my heart beats in "I love you"s and fingertips tracing your spine,
thudding of breath and beating of heart in perfect time,
like a lump in my throat that can't be swallowed,
like the butterflies that can't be tamed,
and twenty toes poking out of the blanket hurry to hide themselves as if they're ashamed,
because it's really just not big enough for the both of us,
like a town in a Wild West movie where revolvers equal whispered love notes,
and devotion coats the tongue of she who draws quicker
-ch
YOU ARE READING
carpe diem
Poesíabrought to you from the far corners, shallow pools, and desperate depths of my mind complete
