I’ve been hit with an immense wave of loneliness. It is a vacuum. All I can think of are tender moments between me and some non-existent other. He studies my imperfect skin, runs his fingers along soft bumpiness, unnoticed creases, miscolors and birthmarks. I’ll take his head in my hands, the wrinkle of his ear under my thumbs, and look into his eyes. all we’ll hear is the sound of our quickened breaths. maybe even the other’s heartbeat.
what time of day is it?
it does not matter in our world
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