places of love: roof of the mouth

The way tongue went up to the roof of the mouth
holding the breath for a second, unraveling the silence

that sat in the centre of my existence
when you said yes

and let light flood into a dark cave. Your image frozen
in layers of minerals I hacked crudely,

colors of dust settled
on my skin, on the crevices of my toes, in chapped lips.

The furrows filled crimson, colour of my blood, taste of salt
in your mouth as you explored the depths where

light
pooled in stillness, rippled with life at your touch.

Day 1
Write a poem a day,  NaPoWriMo 2013

 

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