Tongue is surface, too, though hidden.
Talking is an act, though hated.
Hands are still that would be moving
Over and over, but in silence.
Words are meeting, perhaps, though mistaken.
Lips are doorways, though on chains.
Heads are tilted, as before kissing
Over and over, but in silence.
Touch is withheld, often, though wanted.
Language claims lives, though wasted.
Eyes do much that the body would do
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