|stunning profile. messy bun.|
|paint on the ceiling.|
There may never be a chance like it again to
Feel the humps on my hips
Their draw backs and draw ins.
The draw strings
Are the curves of my eyes.
Remember how you tugged them when I was shy.
Not asking for eternity in the lunchboxes of future children but,
when you’re fucking me.
No more imagining.
I deserve to watch your lips stumble.
I want you
to remember every oval on this body
every tremble into their glory.
Face me, so that I may know the man
Who sticks me with goodnight kisses
like a shadowless blade.
Like all the silences
in which we were made.
Baby, my mouth is an exam
you cannot afford to fail.
© Amber Tamblyn