Wishful living

You stayed there
as a fleeting thought
a floating fog waiting to fall
the cautious pressure is insistently close
like a bud’s desire to burst
it was still in the present
a soul’s longing cramp to reach through the fog
like a second of a wave
that folds and begins to collapse
there’s nothing to describe
and yet a skin’s pores steam so close
as close as a distance can give
in a lingering question.


Girl on rails



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