Poetry: Tongue In Ink

The best poems are not written in ink but by the tongue.
Spoken into the air never finding paper
Touch by the mist of breath against your neck
Said in the dark rooms where lovers meet

Not at all recorded nor syllables numbered
But art form just the same
Once activated and released the words are all lost
Left to moments that linger
Holding each other in sweaty embrace
As if the sheets themselves are sentences

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