One Body, Two Fish

I don’t ask your body for permission,
just direction
No different than water
When no one is watching
where to go, what hurts,
whichever way the current flows.

My fingers spread across the lines of your back,
the stress and inflammation of muscles swollen with things
you never said
the way fingers search braille like prayer beads.

I am not a Pisces,
but I am not afraid of the weight that could crush us both.
Every breath, a surrender of what needs to be let go.
Not all kisses feel the same.

You hold oceans in the way you stare,
the way you sigh but say nothing.
If nothing else, I swim in you,
searching for the perfect thing to say.

Not in a circle
not even a straight line.
If you pull away, I cannot tell.
But I am there,
learning to listen to your body.