They would look at each other,
sitting there, bare, on opposite
sides of the neatly made bed,
and neither would make a move
to break the expectant hesitation
that had frozen them on the precipice
of new directions that would go
through flesh or its denial. Thus
the coming days wavered on
the edge of existence, one
path their flesh becoming one,
the other separation. Equally
real, equally unreal, until
a move was to be made.
20.06.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse Verse Poetry Poems Poem
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