Typewriter Tongue
I whisper a restless thank you with no extra daisywheel to decorate the font. Cheat the sun into the night undetected. You speak in the dark where black ink text can't be seen. Warm my skin with your accent. Absent of words as none are needed. Words with feel void of unneeded sound. Language is a fashion too fast for tongues to sew. Your words are a guideline to make love by. Honey tongue dripping words under another decoration like the script across my back about drowning voices in the sea. Thank you T.S. for letting me linger in your 'C's. I'll touch pages in your new books another time, when I'm not at this typewriter creating my own.