I love that you have stairs in your house
I love your giant book case
I love your nervous hands.
I love your quiet intensity. It makes me blush.
We talked about Chomsky and Satre.
And I jumped cross legged on your bed.
And you fumbled with my buttons
And it made me laugh
Even more thrilling
Than than the rhythm of urgent tessellation
Even more thrilling
Than a collision of hips
Is the curve of your elbow,
The angle of your shoulder blade
The space of skin between your neck and your chest.
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