your skin is much too loud to whisper,
yet your mouth is as silent as the glitter
of the moon. your face holds no secrets,
and your eyes wear truth like lenses
pinned. your chest is a dissimilar case;
hiding every bit of your colours inside,
quarreling for their places in your dreams.
perhaps i've felt you before, perhaps
i never did, but the thought of you
sure makes me pine.