Through The Brass Bell

I need a new language for your body; its valleys and plains; the concave places that left their shadows to puddle wrist-deep and warm. How long have I used this mouth to say love? How long have I let my heart reverberate between my teeth like a large brass bell my tongue hit over and over again? I’ve lost count of the years — ran out of fingers a long time ago. And still, when it matters most, I am speechless. Without the words to tell you that my bones turn to divining rods in the dark of the night — that they pull towards your spine and leave me pressed there like a prayer that can only be said with eyes shut tight. Sweetheart, I am never sleeping when my forehead presses between the sharp of your shoulder blades. I am not kissing — I am silently whispering, I want you to stay. 


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