Lip hair fault lines

I am convinced

all the good poetry has been written

and all I’m left with is

describing your lip hair

as it points like a hesitant hedgehog

afraid to show its blonde quills

for fear they won’t protect you

from someone like me

who will spend their lifetime

describing your lip hair

as a light breeze catches it

just as your breath does

so it remains still

and I can see where each connects

back to you,

a description of lip hair

that would one day

comb through the words

with a rebuke

of how I failed to mention

how most of the time

there was no

description of lip hair

for it was a fault line

and you were barren

even if it made you bleed

and so I’d quake to stillness

and yet

you’d grow somewhere else

where you might not

be noticed

and have something to leave

behind,

even if it is just

a shaving of sentences

that could cut

if penned correctly

*

What is there

besides a woman’s behind

and a man’s eye,

unless of course

it’s the curve

shared in both

like Siamese twins

who like to touch each other

mostly because it’s wrong

to feel

a part of yourself

apart from yourself

in someone else