nervous to call. nervous to write. nervous to hear the voice, of a known stranger in the night. but it was different this time, and despite the wire i could feel the warmth of that shine and smile. stoic both, in past precautions so the world had woven in our hearts, tombs of unforgetting, looking west for all we've lost. in reverie, in broken parts. you're doing well.
i feel for constant pulse, to see if im still here. i've seen behind my rosey-eyes, and through your smokey mirror. and though we know what passed is past, with history comes fear. the story goes, from we to woe all starry eyed and sheared.ships may pass in darkest night, but never disappear.
this instance blacked in ignorant bliss when on the darkened water nothing innocent came with that kiss in moments in the standstill spoken words were on the tips and wrapped within our lips, skipped the world with fingers curled, pressed into your skin. i dont know just what you are, but crave your taste again.