Wordle 443

Your smile cracks

against my knuckles

like a pagan sun

newly exonerated.

Knees pinched, I wonder

what your words would feel like

gathered on my tongue.


If it were possible I would

fossilize every touch in amber

and create a menagerie

of moments that are uniquely us.


You assemble me in your arms.

Heart chopped off at the wrist.

You give of yourself willingly.


I wrap around you

like a length of rope

too tightly situated.


I never thought we’d meet

ironed into a dove grey sky

with the masses scattering

over the streets like fog.


Let them gawk and cringe.

There is only room enough

in this interval for the two of us.


The ground beneath us

gives way to aperture

and all that absence

rendered unbelievable

is palpable as a song.


We stand clustered

in an ocean formed

entirely of whispers.


I have spent my whole life

debating signs in search of tokens.

I have spent my whole life

taped into the creases

of inferior lovers, waiting

for my dreams

to rise to the surface.


There is something

almost holy about the way

you move across my mind.

A sultry crawl, a bolt of lightning,

a disembodied voice

splitting each ragged breath

strait down the center.


My nerves yield to parchment.

Scribed in fire each second

fills me like a heathen mist.

My soul shifts to the outside

and with your fingers deftly curled

you weave our roots into tapestry.



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