I love how wild you become
blinded by a vision of white,
your forearms braced around my chest
in hap-hazard triangles,
how far my back can turn to meet you and
the way your hand sometimes creeps up to my throat,
the window almost always open and
space flooding in, the night
flooding over us - and even the
ocean crashing softly in the distance
- or sometimes just cars -
the manic pursuit of exhaustion,
followed by the beautiful rest...
waking in the morning
and finding ourselves still skin-to-skin.
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