M.R.
My name hung in your mouth like forbidden fruit.
Air curved with heat, and your skin was waking.
Ribbons of shadow ran velvet and mute,
Kisses took root in the breath we were breaking.
Ruin, they say, begins not with fire, but with a glance –
And yours returned, again, without a sound.
Voice unspooled on the second please, softer than breath.
Even now, my mouth recalls where we were bound.
Lit from within, you shivered – pure nerve and no armor.
Each line of you leaned toward the shape of yes.
Time softly folded where your shoulder, bare shoulder, touched my breath.
marked by you
© Copyright: Эл Стайнберг, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125072507492
Свидетельство о публикации №125072507492
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