Mine – Bombay, June 2002

i love how the sound of your voice is familiar now.
that I know it with the first syllable
even before it becomes a word, or sound.
how the smell of your skin, slept in, becomes my own.
i love the way your hair spills around my shoulders
when you kiss me and down between my breasts
when we sleep pretzeled around each other.
i remember with love that one night when
your breath thudded with the rhythm of my heart
and how surprised I was at the suddenly strangely sweet
the brackishness of the morning seemed.

smoke stained fingers supple coffee skin chocolate swirled curls star struck bright eyes looking at me.

Stay that way. Don’t you move.

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