I would like to
live in your inches
from the ankles up,
tracing small circles
along the flesh of your
hard work,
delving into my
thesaurus of touch,
editing your skin
with my fingertips,
inscribing
a novella on the
heartland of your back,
composing an honest
lullaby of affection,
rewriting the
knots of your day,
into the prone prose
of dayslumber.
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