Imagine

Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers.

On your pillow.

In your arms.

Imagine, you press your thumb to

my lower lip, and you can hear my heart

beating like a hammer.

You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and

you teach me a new language with your mouth.

You touch me with intention.

Imagine, I let you. I uncurl.

Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches

you so softly, I could scream.

And the exquisite truth of it all is,

that if you ever did get to touch me,

I think I would die.