You look at me as if we've known each other for years.
Your mouth, your tongue, your hands—they hunger to discover this strange body,
and I surrender.
Passion? It owns me.
My body writhes with pleasure.
Your hands drift slowly across my skin.
Now it's my turn.
I can't restrain them anymore.
They ache to touch you,
to map every corner of you.
My mind scatters.
We exist alone, wrapped in our wanting.
The feeling deepens.
I let go.
Our hands dissolve into each other's unfamiliar flesh.
The force of your kiss,
the force of your hands—
what do they tell me?
Like blood rushing through my veins,
your hands race across my body.
I want this feeling never to end,
but it won't.
We are moving toward something luminous—
a journey made of fantasy and hunger,
returning to our restless, fevered bodies.
# Strange Bodies We are the ones who love in borrowed languages, who speak in the dark with someone else's mouth. Our hands know only what they've stolen— a gesture from a film, a touch from a book pressed between pages like flowers that never bloomed. We are the ones who dream in other people's dreams, who wake uncertain which voice is ours, which hunger belongs to us alone. Our bodies are museums of borrowed light, each room a borrowed sorrow, each window opening onto someone else's sky. We have learned to smile with teeth we didn't grow, to walk in shoes that were never meant for us. Sometimes we forget the shape of our own wanting. Sometimes we remember it tastes like copper, like the back of a stranger's hand, like a name we were never given. We are the ones who live in the spaces between words, who make love to the idea of being known, who die a little each time someone says our name as if they mean it. Our strange bodies are monuments to what we've never had— not roots, not soil, not the luxury of being obvious. We are the beautiful disasters of translation, the poems that lose themselves becoming themselves in another tongue. And still, we persist. Still, we reach. Still, we say: *This is real. I am real.* Even as we dissolve into someone else's grammar, someone else's ache.
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