These Things

These Things

Do these things.
Sometimes
I want to hear you say my name,
in sighs upon your lips,
see the sparkle in your eyes,
a chant on your tongue.
I want to know that you
feel me deep in your soul
by the tremble of your lips
and the lift of your breasts against me
I’m pretending,
dreaming you into my night
when you are far away.
Pretending to speak these words,
to disconcert them,
to hold you in the iris
of my eye your sweet and tender
lips pressed to mine
I love you my heart.

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