your mind is an archivist's dream
i'd like to spend an endless time
inside its hallways learning every
proportion for an indefinite time
i'd like to know the caverns of your
mouth more intimately, what comes out
is not as important to me but your
tongue is something else
still i'd let you whisper your prose
all around my aching collarbones
my longing wrists want to be gripped
by your poetry, perhaps it is love
at first poem? perhaps it is something
else altogether
YOU ARE READING
homeward bound
Poetryonly here because sarah thinks its cute. 100 days of happiness and love poems edit: i didn't make it lol
