I traced the words on your arm,
that were carved in black ink.
I traced them softly, slowly,
careful not to let you crack.
I ran my finger along your skin
because it was much easier than saying -
“It’s scary how much your eyes
can shake me.
It’s terrifying the way we fit together
I want you here and now,
and all the time,
Making those words come out of my mouth
But touching you -
the curled, dark script,
the milk of your skin,
the swell of muscles on your back -
that was easy.