I'm exposed beyond bare skin
whenever we make love,
the unfinished corners
and shards of what we were
all fold into one another.

You don't see the insecurity in my eyes,
I'd rather you look with those dark
curious pools and only see a sky reflected,
the nebulas and pulsars that burst together.

I'd rather you see what desire
finds a way to give form to,
intangibilities built from one moment
after another that we let go unclaimed.

Each one was a coded message belonging to us,
words that took time to untangle,
singularities to be cherished when alone.

The truest exposure is when we
make them mean more together,
all of our creases smooth out,
blooming into one another
when we make love.

I don't see hesitation in your eyes,
we'd rather taste lips raw from joining
and I can fathom the words
you've longed to pass on to me

Like how hands read as fingertips
carefully run over braille,
the ridge of each unique cell
written in a beautiful tongue.

Each one was a tangled explosion,
bodies in flux that never want to part,
even though we're more
exposed than ever now.