My head is full of the delicious moon
reflected off the skin below your neck

and the other gentle curves that make up you

my voice can be heard grabbing night air
at your loss, not creating words but
promises of words not born

you were gone before you ever came,
I was dreaming the experience of déjà vu

it was one of an infinite set of possibilities,
another world taking flight
and skirting away forever

I reach for it


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One response to “twopossible

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