Early

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You began to lift off the couch,

And I remembered your fingers laced with mine

You take steps down the stairs,

And I feel your memory's seeds begin to stir beneath my skin

You shrug on your leather jacket,

And I recall the heat of your breath on my own

Your fingers find my hips,

My mouth meets your lips,

The pain of watching you leave takes root.

Thoughts From An X - Part DeuxWhere stories live. Discover now