Your Lips

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In a crowded living room
Our eyes lock
Blocking out chatter
white dots flashing.

A beige couch-
blanket sliding against it
Protecting our bodies.
Your mouth curves
From your soft cheeks
When I say,
“What do you think?”

Your hand tightens,
Cutting off the circulation
In my limp fingers.
your parted lips
Connect with mine.





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