Tonight
I laid my tears on the naked curve of your spine
and they ran, and spread, like steam;
It felt like fire
The absence of layers or friction between us
felt almost immoral
like the scent of lilac in the spring,
the taste of mango flesh in the sun;
It was the word I didn’t say,
the scream I held in my hand,
that almost left small roads in your skin;
There was no peace, no calm in wanting, to leave
my fingerprints on the arch of your hips
my whispers in the graying silk of your hair;
Hours later, I followed the tears to the end
and laid there watching, the night drowning you to sleep.
