I bite my lip,
because no one ever tells you
kisses taste better
when you don’t see them coming—
so I break the skin,
just because I feel restless
and because it is
between me
and what I hunger for.
Faint tastes
of blood
in my mouth
move like a slow dance of nights
when
I came
(to you)
and everything you said
was a like a secret voice
boiling in the thick of my ribs.
I am somewhere inbetween time,
and the silent gaps
of your thoughts
curl to a place
where hands
of a clock
can’t reach.
I don’t know what they are called,
those spaces
that break the seconds—
but that’s when
I always think of you