Baby Teeth

Originally appeared in “Grey Matter” anthology by Words Faire

I notice your teeth are kind of like mine,
as we ride side by side on a train.
I like that. Not sure why, but I do.

You tell me what I want to hear,
until our tattoos start to touch.
When I push, you lean in,

poking at my empty spaces with your tongue.
I think we could've been friends-
but our bodies ached for more without asking.

You painted my ideas on your skin. before I could even explain.
I wish I could hold your understanding close,

feel it warm as fresh laundry on my skin.
I want to wear your socks;
know how your dad died;

hear the song of your childhood dog.
I want to go back to a quiet closet. to trace the space between your whispers,

making sure to explore every gap.