it’s filled with your hands

…can you see

that the way you move

unnerves me.

(it continues).

and that

the way you breathe

reminds me

of what it’s like to be

speechless.

i stumble around

for short phrases

of.

i can’t even remember

the words.

they’re hidden somewhere

behind the

heartbeats

filling my ears

(i think they’re mine?)

but as

i miss each step

each silenced word

attempts to remind me

how to

.

string letters

.

together.how to make the curl of the s

the lines of the L

the cross of the–

–and then.

.

my pen stops as my entire mind

runs out of ink

it’s filled with your hands

and every sentence

i could only wish to complete

is interrupted.

by your eye color

i don’t even know what to call it

since language

coincidentally.

has stopped.

i try to practice

rhyming

and

scribbling

but your warmth

tricks me

into omitting syllables.

my cursive falls to the floor

along with my rationality

i think yours too

has fallen

somewhere in the pile

of forgotten bits of

paragraphs in

all my lost

adjectives and each

of

my neglected nouns.

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