"why do you stare at my mouth
so much when i talk," she asked
him. it was a reluctant gaze
into her eyes he made as he
spoke, "i'm trying to understand
what you do so differently with
your mouth than me or
her or him or them. the composition

astounds me, wraps me in sheets
of eloquence, simplicity, contentment -
and I enter a world where only angels
play, arriving in spaceships, high
up high, beams of columns of light
spiraling towards the majestic peach
hued sky stretch and reach; to pass
by, taking glances thrills the mind."

he paused and couldn't continue; looked
back at her lips, the moisten glint glistened from
the small lamp in the corner of the room - the
strength was returning to him. "there where
the only thing one can do is hold their breath
to feel their heartbeats in their ears,
counting, just counting, testing if joy
like that can be experienced, that they didn't die."

he reached, gingerly touched her bottom lip with the
broad side of his thumb, watched it part slightly,
gasped. she swallowed.

"my, uh..." she couldn't arrange
the words right.
"my mouth does all that?" she asked.

"that’s just your mouth, yeah," he said.
"i didn’t even talk about the magical
ways you infuse unseen elements
in words, creating exciting worlds for
them to love and fight and exist in."
he paused. leaned in slightly,

said, "do you want me to tell you
of the words, the words you create?
of their journeys, battles, defeats, romances?"
thought something about love
and this connection she has with this
man and could feel that same swelling
feeling in her chest all these years later;

enthralling.

"yeah," she said. "tell me of the words."