my mother told me love is finding comfort in the echo-stains of othersMature

What color are your insides,
are the parts of you that you keep
buried safely beneath all this skin and
illusion? skin and skin and lips and skin,
the things you’ve got under there that
you never let out:
I want to know their shapes, the color 
of their presence, the stain, the texture,
the taste of them on my tongue - 
I want to know it all, I want this intimacy 
like it’s my dying breath. I want to know the things 
you can’t bear about yourself, I want to know them 
as I know mine, I don’t want to tell them apart.

The End

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