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These spots of time.
Like wine in my glass.
Holding that last incline
as pouring, sipping you
spilled your eyes
upon mine.
Line for line, you remind
me of me.
At least we are free.
No sign of that
uneasy feeling when
meeting someone
strangely like me.
No, tell me your
heart is as rampant
as ever.
Yes, let me take
your breather.
You can keep the
pulse going.
That easy smile
of yours ever coupled
with mine in October.
This timeline is skewed.
Like a wreck of a train
you and I boarded.
In good faith we trusted.
In love we lusted for
that we could only
find in dreams that
curled around your lips
smiling in uncertainty
as I am writ from you.
Mind urging.
Body struggling.
Soul so taken
with you.
This freedom in writing.
This joy in being.
This fear in your eye
a wistful imagination
of mine.
Will such things in
time, slow as it is,
be just another line?
When you and I drenched
the evening sky.