Fireworks at night.
An ocean of light.
Bottle the sun.
The summer of peach tea and cigarettes.
Vonnegut and insomnia and all the ticking clocks.
Time flying by in quick movements
like fabric through our fingertips
when all we want is more and more and more.
Thirst.
Insatiable,
craving every touch
every moment every bit,
every kiss every skin cell every drop of blood
every molecule.
Home.
Warm, familiar spaces
where we melt into the cracks of one another
and begin to feel like a whole.
We will devour each other
and seep into the furniture
and into the floorboards
and into the soil.
We will become shelter,
we will be safe and warm.
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