longing.

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longing. the emptiness of beds when you’ve felt the oozing sweetness of being next to another. the shallow waters of my own breath when it felt the depth of being mingled with yours.

and I’m not sure. why? I feel longing at the pit of my very bones. a longing for everything I’ll never have— the infinite in those temporary steps.


no matter how hard I try to make what I love ethereally alive, there are things I attach to with your body embracing mine. 

going with grace in an inscrutable world.

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