Monday, April 29, 2002

tara ...

fog, before the sunrise, wets the skin beneath my jeans. and my eyes, in the indiscernability of light, sees a shadow that may be you, that may be more than a shadow in the fog. if i reach, would it be you i touch? if i kiss, would it be you that presses back with lips open?

i want to reach through the fog, through the smudge of morning haziness. i want the first light of day to strip the shadow from your form and leave you crisp and fresh before my eyes, before my touch.

and i want to be there, with you, as twilight breaks and dawn ignites. as day resolves and fog uplifts.

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