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Passing Words

by Lacey Smith

You always laugh
when I do it:
always tense,
then sigh,
then relax.
I try to stare through
the tumble of your eyelids
when I move for you,
all limbs.

I open my eyes
when yours are closed:
I count lashes,
seconds, scratches,
shifts.
I try to make my longing
imperceptible.

But I feel the way
you press into me:
calloused, rough,
but earnest.
On your lips,
I taste the salt
of words not said,
roaming letters,
hints.

So I form the sentences for you.
I pass them on my kiss.
You taste them, tongue them,
let them sit,
brewing,
vehement.

02/06/2012

Author's Note: This feels unfinished and I don't consider it done. Feedback would be useful in combing out what works.

Posted on 02/06/2012
Copyright © 2020 Lacey Smith

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 02/06/12 at 07:02 PM

The last two words leave me wondering what comes next. That may not be a bad thng, it depends upon the direction take and that is what is left open. And again that isn't bad, I'm stating how I feel from the write. So it can just end here to my mind.

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