Serafin

I can see the way you move on her
The way you put your large identical hands on her sides
and your thumbs tapping like a drum on the bones that stick out
I can feel the sweat that you drown in as you work,
as you glide over her, through her
She's looking at you, you're not looking at her with those eyes that pierce,
with those eyes that tell stories
Those grey sheets don't know any better, but you do
She grabs your neck but her hands don't fit like mine do
Her hands don't fit at all but she thinks she knows you
I know she doesn't know how to make you shiver,
how to make your hands laugh, how to make you collapse
with one touch and a stroke
You can't say her name because our syllables match
and mine are screaming
She doesn't taste the residue of peanut butter that's always there
as she kisses you, but she tastes my name
She only knows one thing that I do not;
If you broke into that thin smile that melts me down,
as you finish what you never really started