Remy Marlowe Rodriguez
Fingers twisted in dense hair forget boundaries.
The tips of these probes pull you closer in tune with
The soundtrack of our affair.
Dance with me.
Twirl me around the floor with your hands.
Let our rhythm be the strands
That tie us together.
We’re characters in this black and white movie;
A man with a beautiful voice crooning
As we salivate over each other, singing along,
Trying, almost trying, to be faithful to our promises.
I can still taste you;
Your kiss lingers on my tongue.
The recollection of your touch
Is a bold imprint pressing on my flesh.
I hear that song behind an earphone bubble.
No one sees what plays behind my eyes;
The way I look in your arms.
I want to go home.