Vocal cords like anchors at times,

What felt like ravenous humming birds
Beating their torn wings against my throat;

My love language was bone against flesh

And how the skin breaks gently against the lip;

soft hands, but rough intentions 

As I am reminded

That I have always been my very own absence,

And your very own presence, with every incoherent pattern 

My fingers would draw onto your hips;

Like love notes marrying our bodies