It’s the hour of the ever after. It’s the hour of the words that never were. The channels flicker and the song you speak in a hush beneath your breath plays on and on. A greedy touch and a bone deep tremble, these memories muttered in gusts of breath and clouds of smoke. I would tell you but you already know what I wanted. Everything you had to give and all you had to do was ask. It’s a story within a story, local color before the sign off, the anyone else that’d do. It’s the night left on read, the simple assembly of the ache from every step you take away.
I wish it was as simple as the whisper I would use to wake you, something fluttering in your blood, my lips so near your neck. I wish it was as simple as what I wanted, then these words could take their leave. It will always be my hands upon your hips, staring into your want. Or at least that’s my story as you burn away the bridge. I know it’s nothing like the way I write it, I’m another dull flame readily extinguished. I’m the stranger you wished you turned away.
This is how the night goes, promises passed like notes in class. This is how the night turns, towed by the lost dog moon. It’s a little cold and a little lonesome. The dogs are honestly running amok, though it’s between them and the neighbors now. There’s little comfort in the laughter allowed as payment for the proud contumely, Sun Ra headed to Mars with a rumor of percussion following the steps. This tripping tongue, this downward spiral, this lump of wonder why that has all the answers. Did you write this down before you erased it from your memory? What kisses await telling, this skin and your lips?
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