I am a person who talks a lot,
loudly, rambling, overshares.
But sometimes, I don’t.
The words get stuck in the back of my throat,
like a cough I can’t quite shake.
I’ll have to settle for this.
This forehead to forehead quite prayer,
this writing my name in between your ribs,
the feeling of a cord around us both,
pulling tigher and tighter,
until we dissolve not knowing where the familiar geography of our own body ends and the other begins.
This feeling that our skin knows each other,
in this life and maybe the one before.