I can write around you.
Let a finger trace the hush of your lips —
no need to undress you,
you are already bare in this language we share.
I can pour you into a bath of words,
and slip in beside you.
Even in silence,
we feel how letters shape a story
only the two of us can read.
Now that you are here,
I write my hand upon your shoulder,
my lips breathing verses along your neck.
My fingers sketch soft lines around your waist
and suddenly,
drops gather meaning,
telling how your hands
found the place
where I begin.