Tuesday, April 12, 2011

two times

It was the warmth of my breath 
on the back of your neck 
as I ran my fingers 
up and down your spine. 

You're convinced you play this game better than I, 
because they've come to worship at your feet--
never realizing you're an illusion.

Real, unreal, and the black stars in between 
fill the miles that separate us in everything but desire. 

Each new season brings new revelations. 
The eyes are the same, but those full lips I longed to bite, 
form a softer smile -- unfamiliar.

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