Tuberculosis

I choke on our moments, like pendants tight on necks in summer. Can you hear the crushing of sternums? Blow this open; your sideways glances keep my hands warm. Sandalwood scents teeming, our breath on mouths so tight, you are welcome for this heartbeat.

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Life List

There are things we do not say until on laminate floors half way to the sternest dawn. I never see my knuckles white with the lights off but your teeth catch space and time. I stutter with surprise and my voice is deep when in confirmation. Wrongs are never really righted but you find the solace I pride myself on curbing like one-way routes. These synapses fizzle under the drowning sickness. Our love never matches up.

A piece in which I address myself.

Enough syllables have been spread between our thighs, remind me how tender my heart can be. Years later I am starting to doubt the weakness you planted. Have you seen a survival? I am so simple today I feel drunk on my own faith. Your burgundy pieces are a chess match; silk can separate mountains. These are the moments I forget your voice.