there’s almost too much of a tongue twister in your name,
roof of my mouth soiled with the aftertaste,
spilling rivers into footsteps flaring imprints on the forest floor,
framing what I thought I could reforget
and I’ve told you not to attack this tongue,
manipulate this marvelous,
teeth thrown into a whirlwind
before you understand me,
crack this crumbling code and remember
you could become as much mine as my heartbeat,
this could be breathing but it feels like so much more than that,
like I don’t have to think here,
kick the dust up behind you before you realize the road’s paved,
memorize the click of my copper-cut fists,
and every time I turn around and see you like this
it’s like
(inhale)
I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath.