I’ve slowly warmed up to you.

Slowly opening as the days go by.

We do this where we don’t ask anything.

It’s jocular because the less we know,

the more we end up finding out.

Arms that understand distance.

Hands that know when to lightly grip.

Lips unfamiliar to this kind of smile.

Hearts that do what fingers enjoy doing at poetry slams.

Your skin is painting of daylight,

we’re all a sunset away from well-rested.

I’m sorry is never a conversation,

darling- there’s only more to love.


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