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Mar 2016
city lights peep through the blinds,
voyeuristic result of our impatience,
blinking at two bodies in a room
awake, alive, on fire
while the world sleeps around us.

years ago, my hand touched your back
for just seconds, and it burned for days.

this time, i feel it outside and in,
flames licking my spine, curling
around my thighs, reaching up and up and
--smoke thick on my lips, filling my mouth,
alarms screaming on the cellular level,
no truck coming to extinguish them.

you echo in my nose,
alcohol and salt, sandalwood and sweat,
like you were made of earth and vice,
like you came to anchor me to a night
i thought would only happen in dreams.

the sun finally peeks over the lowest buildings
and we are spent; my arm around you,
you fall asleep immediately.

and there in the sunrise,
each time my eyes open-- it's hair on fire,
a sea of freckles on your shoulders,
and i grin into my pillow
heady with the universe's whisper:
*"dreams do come true, darling."
what. is my life.

if this is the universe's way of apologizing for the **** i've been dragged through this year, i accept.
Natasha Teller
Written by
Natasha Teller
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