As the air from my nose divides itself from the tip of yours, skims down your cheekbones, And my gasps vanish in between the gaps in your teeth I recount, while you push your face into mine and scavenge for magic in my mouth, how our lips locked so well yesterday and how today, as you wave my tongue like it was manufactured only for your consumption, your appetite bobs off my face like a ball of oil trying to dive in water. I wonder if it were my lips t hat changed their shape or your intentions, your tantrums or my apprehensions? I wonder if you realize that the lump in your throat is the lie I'm choking on, and that my lips don't belong to you just because you have touched them with yours before.
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