The microscopic folds of her wrist
Parsing a youthful vernacular,
Seemed to sigh
Under the current of his calloused refraction.
He prayed she could not feel him staring.
He watched her chest rise,
Like a magnet spinning hydrogen
Between two lungs,
Every atom composed
Strings of electric soliloquies
Strings of electric soliloquies
That rewrote themselves
With every fall.
He could taste the heat
Coming off her;
She was a solar flare of quartz and rain.
His eyes flashed
And his fingers seized the carbon
That was slowly slipping from his grasp.
His palms were black and smudged
From artless musing.
It was his turn to trace her.
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