These bold orange nights are filled with whispers
Bodies splayed out under an arrange of
Crammed fingers shoved under pillows
hesitance before a plunge
of forgotten silence.
Melodies playing in empty spaces,
lips made up of open fields
frayed nerves climbing through hair
palms pushing against planes of muscle
and a pencil falling long forgotten
hands on cheeks and collar bones
necks hot and airy and smells floating
and breaths made of small moan of tomorrow
every move is voluntary and I'm forced
to think about how to breathe.