Your touch a language

Your touch a language, tripping off my skin

In silent vowels of a tender speech.

And I learn slowly when you softly teach

My muted tongue those consonants, within—

By which your fingers spread your nuanced grin;

Approximate your touch, then, I beseech:

That you be kind and tender in your reach.

In hesitation speak I what I mean,

And none too fluent in this tongue I pause—

I wonder what you hear when, in my touch,

Our speech yet fingers newer words? Because

Though language aids in feeling such-and-such,

Our tongues entwined in touch may suffer loss,

Then set in fear we might yet talk too much.

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