Impulse dripping
in a biblical sense.
The warmth of your skin
melds with the light
after we’re done.

I would ask you how we got here
but there is no confusion
as the ticking clock
and your heartbeat
and mine
swim to crashing shore.

For me,
beginnings
have always been
little deaths.
But somehow,
in this moment,
there is no reason
to mourn
possibilities.

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