Memories from Other Planets, 2

By luck or perhaps some tinge of liquor we have crossed beyond the shadow’s fingers – snuck into a room with tinkling fixtures, china from a glass case shivering away and oh the cold could reach its bare hand down your throat and turn your lungs to little icicles – I wonder how the nightingale outside is not as frozen as the tips of both our noses – oh we chose this room for secrecy and immediacy and expediency and for some reason you’re letting me do everything I want – I want the only thing and that is you; I want to press and squeeze and lose my own self for a minute locked in yours.

Our friends all note our smiles as we come back through the door.

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~ by perfectionatrix on November 9, 2012.

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