It always the mouth
that distracts me
From what goes on
in your mind,
Less hips than lips
that sails this ship
Over this sea of words
you weave
Puckered breath
painting portraits
Of what goes on inside
Each word so perfect
I ponder the prospect
Puckering up over them
To sip your words
Like wine
To make them mine
To reach that mind
Behind those lips,
Hips and eyes,
To know you
Inside and out.
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