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the city we are obligated to call home:

'it's pulsing, like a heartbeat'
really
i          
just
want
to
feel
                            yours. a steady bassline to keep track of,
tap my foot to in this unsteady place called love.

'that? that's just gases rising and light being hit in the right way'

from where your arms are cold around my waist, it seizes my attention that the

                            moon is nowhere to be found.

— The End —