It was a brief moment.
There was no context, or speech.
We folded into each other like magnets.
Crook of arm meeting joint of wrist, neck pressed against neck so I felt the faint throb of her pulse.
The points of contact sent tingling multicoloured ripples outward over us.
Our eyes were closed, we were crouched behind a Roman pillar.
It was night.
And her scent of old books and fresh coffee lingered.
(addendum)
The midnight blue of our stolen night sought refuge from the sun in the lost corners of her eyes
The dust in her hair left my fingertips white
We were pointless and beautiful
And we cried stars
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