curate the the way my toes touch
the tiles in june and my lips
glimps your nose

curate the way my mind wonders
over gaps
to other worlds

curate the way my clothes fall
in cavities of smooth skin
pooring down

curate the smell of my neck
after a bath turned tepid
with stale nervousness

curate the patterns my footsteps leave
on grassy football fields
etched in dew drops

curate the stilness my eyes hold
for you to linger in the hallways
of my arms

I have built for you a gallery
within my heart
who houses the frame
for you to enter me