the unknown | poem

between your mouth
and crown, i’m waiting
for a silent answer
to a silent question
like an atheist who prays.

stitches aren’t thick enough
to fix our broken souls,
so i’ll take the pieces
and unify, starting
with fingers and auras,
third eyes and toes. i’ll lace
the pair of us like shoes,
so we trip and fall.

i want to play with your spirit,
your sap, your being. i want
to turn your tears
to tea.
my favorite part
is not knowing
what you’d do
if i did.


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