Sometimes I hear footsteps, sometimes not
you pull the curtain in a haste
for the chosen few.
When words chase me from
your body, I want to escape,
the swing door returns.
Baritones in blurred conversations
truth is buried,
there are unknown roots within.
Cloudless evening holds promise
persuading our skin,
you end up with a smile.
What about missing the raspberries?
My sugarless mouth
insulates me from your sweet tongue.