Words rubbed off the top of my head,
fishing into my discreet pocket of needs,
fumble for meanings rising and falling.
For you and me the answer is simpler,
with no place to go missing
it clings onto your knowing lips.
You spell the meaning of my existence
in your fingers skimming across my arm,
your gaze my eyes.
P.S.: Went for a run, short but no less enjoyable, before locking myself up to complete this. There is a nice rhythm put into my life setting time aside for writing.
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