T. S. T. Henry

Tell me.

Show me. 

Teach me. 

You speak with your lips and I speak with my tongue.

Soft 

Supple 

Presses 

Against the sharpness of my words. 

I feel your gentle pull as you tangle your fingertips in my knots. 

Your speech lilts in wonder as I speak a zany thought. 

I wonder what you think of me when I'm not there 

To distract you. 

To take your new memories and intermingle them with my own. 

Am I more graceful than I believe or do I balter with flare? 

Do I have hidden characteristics unknown to myself? 

Have you uncovered anything grand? 

Or are you only met with grandeur disappoinment? 

Tell me what you think of late at night as your eyes flutter with the beginnings of new dreams. 

Show me how i make you feel when I'm unaware of my hold. 

Teach me to unravel...slowly and willingly through your touch...

Your touch is a breeze through a cracked window. 

Soft enough to caress.

Strong enough to put out my fire.