I want to love you softly, inscribing poems into the corners of your arms. You will be the books on dusty shelves, once forgotten and now found. I want to love you softly until the sun blinds our eyes and all we are left with is the braille on our skin. We will lick our lips and taste the salt of the ocean and feel the thunder in our bones. There will be words spilling from our mouths like raindrops and we will laugh because the storm is really inside of us. But first, I want to love you softly.

kelsey of pigmenting