touch,
don't talk,
there's nothing more to say,
the past is far away,
and the future but a calming bottle
with silver glitter floating gently
in lazy, never-ending circles.
touch,
don't talk,
some places need fingertips,
others react to squeezing,
and the frissons are copyright material,
it's up to your fingers to choose
parallel lines contouring
or lazy, never-ending circles.
touch,
don't talk,
sometimes scratches on the walls
tell a better story than pretty words
inflicted on a page in cursive,
feel those wounds, flakes of blood dried
and the raw softer skin exposed
how deep are they?
the scabs are still attached,
explore, pull them apart,
in lazy, never ending circles.
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