everything but the air is against me, and sometimes, i think it's my
fault. after all, it's me that continually fights a million umbilical
cords trying to reach me. it's my fault i've become so intimate with
the space between fifty thousand stars. solo. theme. a soloist on a solo list. if you know what i mean. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- in The Dreaming last night, i met you again, all in black sheets and
soft light. for once i wasn't needed. no demands pulled me this way or
that vying for my time, for my attention. that was reserved for your
calves, for your inner thigh, for that place where your leg meets your
belly. you asked me why beautiful and i didn't answer. upon waking i realized that's four nights running we've met and i
ached with what felt like loss.
ghost
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