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Rated: E · Poetry · LGBTQ+ · #1132055
late, late, late, for a very important date?
We meet. Somehow I see your stoic face.
At the same time, you see mine, through the race
Of grumbling lightning storms. Bodies twist violently,
Spin like compasses in a magnetic frenzy,

Needles unsure of which direction to go.
You scan for a smile, a point you know
Will secure you in space for awhile. And you stop
At a familiar door. I answer your knock,

Having been cooped up too long in my cluttered house.
You notice I'm quiet, obsessed with the mouse
That scratches a riot in my walls. I keep
Trying to trap him. He nibbles my ear as I sleep,

Slowly gnaws the small bones that rush the world in.
We cross somewhere between heartache and sin
To settle for this madness. We sit down to rest,
As travellers do now and then. It is best

Not to let our eyes lock too often.
Such gestures raise questions, what it would mean
To speak of peculiarities or subtle honesties. We agree,
However, that love is a dream. As we leave,

We'll reminisce of past nights like this, and might even touch.
But we will say nothing that reveals too much
Of the secret of why we come here. It's a place
We roam for reasons unknown. The embrace

Of the music and sweet honey drink blacks out the fear.
The chilled air and calculated charms will endear
Me to your unaccustomed arms. I will sink
Into them, as rage gives to screams. The thick

Fog lifts at the instant of an accidental kiss.
From the start all signs were leading to this
Clearing. Tonight we revel and smoke and sing
Into the startled morning. The day will forget the whole thing.


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