Miss. Behave Ing

Hearing the scratching (We are the floor we feel,) of finger nailing the backing, (our unfrozen terrain remains unfrayed) while smelling the necking (as we explore the sacred friction of now.) and rubbing the skinning. Listening to the whispering (We slay the nights unseen) of lipping the lobing, (into tiny slices of salty slumber,) while …