by Kristen Kane
The way I love is raw; bone on bone,
pressing your body between the pages
my mouth waited to write in a language
you finally knew how to read.
It’s the way your collarbones lock
against my hips like a semicolon, a deliberate pause
to assess the damage of previous lovers
who wouldn’t take the time to really learn you.
I excel at this, studying every movement waiting for your call.
I’m not taking in enough of your skin
when my arms were meant to hold
so much more than this.
Kristen Kane is a writer from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania whose work has been featured in Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal and Backroads Literary Magazine of the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown.