I trace my mouth
with a lazy fingertip
thinking about
the press of yours
the warm
the wet
the sex that slipped
between our lips
pulling us ever closer
until I am reminded
of that Anne Sexton
poem about two lovers
gnawing at the barrier
between them
drawing together
in the fight to be
one body
one mind
one mouth forever
kissing itself
telling its own
secrets, together
in the dark
there is no
me
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