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I’ve been having this
oral fixation
over you
these past few nights
as you form words
and give names to
the miscellany of objects
inside your mind
and interpret
the confusion around you

I try to act casual
observing your every movement
as you sip that hot brew
and swallow the medium in which
its essence is diluted
and it makes me weak
to suddenly realize
my lips
are jealous of the cup

you spell out
your espresso-colored spirit
in deft, bold strokes
across the air that lingers
between our faces
the moisture on
the edges of your mouth
and your articulate tongue
off which expressions roll
directed to my ears
arrest the flow of my thoughts
and beckon to me
in a fire
bigger than my body
the inflections of your voice
like syringes
injecting LSD hallucinations
on my soul

how vast is this world
how beautifully convoluted
that we can pass that many hours
just talking
and not run out
of things to say;
but sometimes
I just can’t help but wonder
what your language would taste like
and whether your words would fall
just as sweet and melodious
if you whispered them
into my mouth
and what texture
silence would be
if we hid behind it and
got busy soundlessly

would you understand me
if I explained
the situation of my heart
with my eyes closed,
my right palm on your cheek
and my left-hand fingers
at the back of your neck?
can I give you
a transfusion of passion
in an emergency,
pleasurable operation?

because I have this message for you
at the core of me
that I have to deliver
and I fear that poetry
may fall short in describing it
so maybe we can try
a different means of communication,
one that involves
rising temperature,
shorter, shallower breaths
and the infinite indescribable