We are.

We are made of dust that slips through love burns, through rivers of joy, through seas of lust, through forgetfulness.

We are desire and we are pure fire. We are slippery though, we disappear. We melt into each other, making it hard to recompose after.

You make everything hard for me. Because I forgot how to say goodbye.

We are fine wines, that pour into a one-hour glass of rapture, ecstasy.

We are here, now.

XO,

O.

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