i touch your skin and it's soft, and it doesn't stretch quite as much as mine
the gentle heat radiates across the room and intermingles with morning light, through orange shades
the darkness was warm, the morning cold, but pressed against each other, under thin sheets, we sweat

a caress

uninterrupted by thought of concern
only awe
pleasantries given and taken like a neighbor's sugar
firm pressure like well-fit vestment
stolen glances, eye contact made in a mirror

the whiteness of gifted pain shows curious eyes a cityscape covered in snow
claws and teeth were made for this
grip grope grab grasp
scrounge
epithets cast to heaven
cry like you're lost, though you never are

action, re-action, and reaction, and reaction
stacked in the queue, buffered
buffered in the stack, queued
queued in the buffer, stacked
replayed mentally, briefly, eliciting a shiver once more
rhythm unceasing
no respite desired, no desired respite, no desire for respite, no desire for any respite, and, thankfully, no respite for the desired



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