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Apr 2012
There were days when I was sure
that those jars in the back seat of your car
held the breathes I couldn’t take when I was with you.

Did you take them for me?

When I did breathe, it was deep and slow,
I wanted you to dive into the micro veins at the bottom of my lungs and stay in my mind.

For months your name and my pulse were made of the same letters.

For hours our hands were not our hands,
they were one warm sizzling popping absently ever present hand.

You told me you felt altered
and we were.

We birthed a new shade of infatuation when we swirled together.

Never before had such a hue been found in the spectrum,
but we were sure we had seen it before.

Some place,
some time.

Maybe we can paint a house that color together.

In a different place,
in a different time.
6/30, 2012
HR Beresford
Written by
HR Beresford
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