In knots and tonguetied
unable to decipher
curiosity from desire
mirrors are
tricky; what
is him and
what is me?
This silent
stand-off
tastes like Mexican
feels like butterflies
elephants,
electric fences
confuses like
a secret
adolescent crush
stubborn asyoume
each other
one of us
is twisting
twirling,
stroking this
around skillful
fingers
but is it
you,
or is
it me?
just reading poems in the middle of the night„,