a short distance.
in the fog.
moisture suspended and rubber soles.
chairs arranged on white paper as poetry
while it lasted the right moment.
lips took before going
words and moments from shortness of breath.
even a noise.
maybe too light.
blinded me with haunted eyes and thought
stopped. bleached.
eye contact is always a big why.
life will consume the saliva.
and you remain stationary.
aspects.
happen.
and it's like biting her lip.
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