Your lips are stuck in my head, what an uncanny place to be stuck in. can you move to the right a little please, your lips are blocking my words…they don’t flow the way they used to. My tongue is twisted and contorted to fit in perfectly with yours, I no longer know where my lips begin and yours end, my ribs long to fit in the concaves that separate yours, my scars and bruises long to be molded into yours, making patterns, drawing topographies, mapping your body to mine…beautiful designs don’t just happen and I wonder if our world was mapped on scars.
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