undefined lines

when my fingers speak to the words of the small of your back, i find this to be my favorite type of discussion. punctuated with kisses on my collarbone. legs, bodies positioning into an ellipses of things better off unspoken. resulting in question marked eyes turning into exclamation marks of surprise and exhaustion at the same time, ending this hour long run-on sentence with the most comfortable period of a satisfied smile. afterwards, we whisper secretly of things that don't need to be ever said (but should be known anyway), letting them somehow slip in between the parenthesis of our mouths as they travel line by line from our doubled-over hearts into our burning ears. and though the writing in this room seems to be unclear, there is one thing that is clear: it is a moment so defining, it could not be defined.

and all i really know from this, and in terms of you and me, it's that -- i would never want there to ever be a last line.