Your figure against mine, white noise streaming through out our spines as our bodies
create friction,
as our bodies
create silence.
Beauty.
 
Your hand against my crooked hip bone, your fingertips like a sky painted red, your fingertips, like an ocean, touching me.
 
Your stomach against mine, your breath entering my lungs the vibrations,
humming through the earth like thunder swimming through my bones,
This sound
Is the closest thing I have ever heard
To coming home.

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