Craving — a poem

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Sweat-soothed
Centimetre-space.
No space.
Breath restricted
By breath.

Chest on stomach
Teeth on lips
On jaw-lines. Hips.
A collarbone chew-toy.
Puncturing pre
penetrated walls.

Recycled lines
Splintering defences
Laid waste by
Eyes and skin.
We’re turning
Into Starlight.
Kaleidoscope visions
Layer on
layers off.

Matching rhythm
Words failing.
crystallised
Until transformed
Again back to
Two.

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Your Lost Language
Your Lost Language

Written by Your Lost Language

“Being loved the way I love, would begin perhaps, a little quietly.” Poems by Sarah.

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