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This narrow bed, never meant for two,
forces us to fuse,
rib to rib,
with no air left,
only a threat of two bodies
about to burst into flames.
I look up.
Your mouth of fire
hovers an inch above mine.
In your eyes I see the curve on my back
you were never allowed
to memorize with your hands.
You had kissed me first on the heart,
it’s beating so loud,
I beg you — take my brain away and
store it in a vault,
before it dares again
to ask if you even love me.
My thighs that thunder
fold themselves into mountains
then crumble under the weight
of wanting you,
tightening their grip
around all my secret bones.
Don’t kiss me yet.
Let the space between our mouths
become a blade
we both press against
until one of us bleeds
or both of us break.
Honey pools between my legs,
awaiting your confession.
My hips are waiting to let you in
through the door of my skin.
We need to stop this staring contest,
there’s only one true question left.
If we cross this line,
there is no undoing.
O Fortuna,
pause your wheel on its axis,
even the moon and the sun
would never kiss
except for the dark permission
of an eclipse.
We must unbutton ourselves
not in a rush,
but one breath at a time,
until we slide this silk
off our shoulders,
to the floor it was born for.
Don’t kiss me yet.
Let the anticipation
flood my body with
soft surrender,
and a beginning
I’m already ruined for.
Don’t kiss me yet.
Don’t —
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About The Article Author:
Hi, I’m Rachana. Its been my dream for years to do something to consciously create a better future where every one of us is excited about our own potential. My challenge to everyone is that they aspire for their personal best and leave a legacy of their work through their contributions to mankind.
One more thing. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel.
Will you join me on this journey of growth and transformation?
Namasté.
Poetry
Human life without some form of poetry is not human life but animal existence. ~ Randall Jarrell
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