Rubbing our warmth
Onto each other.
You ask me to say
Something.
I run out of words.
You run your fingers
On my chest.
I try to read the
Patterns you make-
I try to translate it
On your back in a
Language you don't
Understand.
We both fantastically
Fail at it.
But it's fun.
Language seems to be
A a scam in bedroom.
Maybe be it should
Be banned.
I know telepathy
Doesn't exist-
But the way our skins
Talk without words-
Two thermodynamic
Systems suspended
From outside affairs-
We try to dive into
Each other, deeper
Each time and
The exploration is
Never enough.