TourGuide

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Your kiss tastes like forgiveness.

It pardons the weight of my transgressions and in the

baptism of our lips, there everything is new.

Whenever we hold hands there’s

an erection in my skin,

My senses stay woke at the sight of you,

you are the ease to my tension.

Your smile is a manifesto,

the only one I’ll ever believe in.

It mimes to me the hopes of

blossom after drought.

Your eyes are a tour guide.

They lead me through parks in your body.

I lost myself in the library of your scars.

The waterfall in your eyes are drying up,

that’s a good sign.

On the highway of your back, there I stop and stare at this landmass

made of light and clay.