You are heavier

You are heavier (having eaten),

pressing on my thighs, warming my womb from the outside;

not so long ago it was yours—warming you.

Your legs flailing, on either side, the constant rubbing

of love; bent over old soft paper you design your world.

The dark dense downy barbs on your head that always smell

                                       a little bit of milk—acidic and sugary—

could tickle me for a lifetime.

A warm wind that belongs only to you

caresses my weatherworn fingertips as I break

your atmosphere to touch, ever so slightly,

your arm, your skin: velvet sleeve.

I remember it, warm and slippery

from the first time we touched,

the ferric smell of flesh and fresh life, and I still feel

the sweet ache of beings separate that were once whole.

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