Soy milk creamy skin
against mine;
black beer wavy hair
stroking my face,
spilling abstract communication;
the weight of our bodies
so right.
Our hands play the piano
of curves,
we play like we know it,
like it's not the first time.
Our lips compete against
kisses and moans.
Two bodies lay naked
next to one another,
and on the next day kisses
are between sex and love,
connection or fear
(walk away or stay),
everything or nothing...
could it just be something?
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