Your name still unfurls
from my lips like wings.
I don't know how to mention you
without it sounding like a prayer.
I am haunted by your touch
even now--paths of skin you'd
trace with calloused hands
have scarred in your memory.
My lips are still bruised from
your eager attempts. A year later,
I can't pucker without
tasting your hunger.
Saying your name is like a prayer,
and I'm tired of taking it in vain.