wet nose.

when i enter your arms my breath skips ahead of me
my fingers grip to your skin like warmth decomposing death.
and when our hearts pitter-patter in sync is when i know there is never too much.
you are never too much for me.


each day i grow more fond of childish cackling,
broken speech,
clumsy fingers.

each moment i deliver more then what you ever imagined.


and with every single touch of your bronze embrace, more of my being turns to gold.

i am in fact satiated.
i am in fact whole.


i am in fact this.

me.