Identity Crisis 

If you hold my hand,
can you feel the words
just beneath my skin–
Ink pulsing in my veins?

When your eyes meet mine,
do you see the lines
flying through my head–
poems too quick to write?

When you catch my breath
with kisses from your mouth,
do I taste like rhyme–
or dissonance and doubt?

—–

AUDIO FILE:

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