I’m the wordsmith
you left tongue tied
Haunted
by a missed sentence
when your breath met mine
I’m the lost girl
who tosses and turns
Poured into an ice cream maker
But it’s broken
and my ice has thawed
into everything
I leave unspoken
Because
I’m the dancer
with battered and broken feet
But then I rose
onto bruised tip-toes
so I could taste your lips
