Run my hands through your arteries so to learn
the patterns of your heartbeat.
Caress my sweaty palms
with your words of wisdom.
Feed me stories,
let me chew on your glass
for you.
I’ll hang onto every last word.
No longer a part of me-
my ears,
for
I gave them to you on a silver platter.
Walk in circles.
Not next to me,
instead become
one
with me.
Trace lines on my back,
tattooing the pathways, we discover.
Let us climb a latter,
away from the old
to create a new.
Shed skin with me,
will you?
We can lick our wounds healed with a splash of 1964 Barolo.
I’d do that for you now.
Because,
Like moss on sidewalks we skip hand in hand on,
you are growing on me.
Day by day,
inch by inch,
more and more green,
Growing on me.
And,
thoughts of anyone else engraving passion
onto the body parts
that is my soul,
flutter away.
Since,
I have learned
the patterns of your heartbeat,
like they are
mine.