Sometimes I can still feel that thickness between us; a tangible fog or mist of love or lust or connectivity or LONGING
It is a solid form of air
A sexual cloud in a heavenly sky of our bodies; skin on skin
My fingers caress this memory
Before things went bad
My fingertips are sad
My memory is a black n white photo of face next to face and an almost last kiss
I'm no longer mad
just missed
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