Let me map the paths

that cross your delicate hands.

Is there a song I can sing to fill that space in your ears?

To leave flickers of a feeling

like the buzz of a phone?

 

My mouth still runs.

Dry

from the perspiration you caused (I’m drained)

 

The puddle forms between your ribs,

let it wash your skin.

 

My salty sweat is the stuff of seas.