Poetry · Writing

Lips

I see it

pink and full

still and quivering

as the back of the fog moves closer around her.

I see it

yet it doesn’t move.

Always shut closed

never revealing any secrets

 

the secrets of living.

Move.

Say something beautiful.

Say something to make my skin turn into rain.

Say it and lift my ears past the heavens

to place not yet explored.

It needs to come from there.

Not anywhere else.

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