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November 2, 2012 by Wayne.

Our lips met.

In that second lived years beyond my own.
In it stayed my past, the days and months
twisting and turning and not minding at all that they were finding it harder to unravel from a future that would never come to pass.

this one moment hung suspended like a snowflake, already melting
already dripping down and disowning its singular, unique shape
already yearning for a tiny pool of water like any other except this one stretched out trickled onwards into the world of things to come into the world of people saying this shit is fucking impossible into a cluster of cracked dreams into lingering promises of more: more to come, more to come.

In that second, I froze and thawed and the hair on my neck snapped up, ashamed
Of my awkward hands hanging, of my eyes blinking,
Of the stress and the strain and the pressure
pulling at the sides of my half-open mouth
Of the pounding in my eardrums, of the siren
exploding in the background, dancing in a roaring blanket of unrelenting white noise

Then I closed my eyes and felt only the soft curve of her moist lips
As they pressed gently, then

She said, “Go, go, go”.

And the seasons flickered back on behind a haze of water and the sudden flood of lights and the waves and waves and waves of people and noise and fucking normalcy frightened me.

So I left.


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