matchsticks

I am nothing but naked in common,
undressed to bare soul yet clothed by you
in your quirky language (pre-rehearsed and
shared with him, him and) unfitted by repetition,
blinded by reputation and deaf to your mute,
reproached by your touch with moments
newly born upon my ears...

sequenced breaths re-gifted from your freshly
dusted shelf of once fleshy hearts,
spoken with beats still attached
(swallowed with sips of bottled water)
left to journey (backstroke in stride)
to a safely built grass-hut haven
where we dine in an exchange
of used words and matchsticks