Tasting the lingering glimpses of what space tries to strip away.
Burned into memory are eyes and contact of stares that caress my well worn soul.
Total emersions of my senses slapped me with it’s kindness.
Feeling what is lain on the table is not anything but the truth, trust builds.
Losing my self in expression of desire long since building, is pure passion.
Only temporarily quenched, like a pusher to a new user.
Time made me wait, so slow, then sped away toward this, now crawls again.
I've read this about a dozen times today. Just so you know.
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