Like Vines.
Wild-eyed, pirate-smiled,
her hands are birds struggling to be free.
She trails her fingertips over his mouth
throws back her head
and laughs like a church bell.
Their chests rise and fall in sync,
as his eyes blink in slow motion
she charts new pathways
in his smooth expanse of skin.
He wraps his fingers in hers,
like vines intertwined,
they lie silent together
where every breath counts.
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