With sheets stuck between our toes,
we grip skin as if it were our enemy
Leaving our marks-passion was an understatement
and falling asleep with hair pasted to faces
sweet aggression.
The coat of my skin is your skin
Indulge yourself with me
Let our ribs lay naked with the night;
it's such great company.
we're either hiding under sheets
or our skin is dancing with the air
No comments:
Post a Comment