Breathing heavily. It feels nice. Alleviate stress, if only for a moment.
My hand runs across your skin. Such softness. Such sequacity.
My eyes are burning. I need this touch. I need this tract of faux safety.
I see the smile in your eyes. You need it. Just like me.
I smile a sad smile. I know the truth. I know this is not a truth.
This is not a reality. It is a fiction. But my eyes are still burning.
Awake from a sleepwalk. I run my hands across your skin.
The sinking absolution grips my chest. I know. Oh God! I know!
I lean in to kiss your lips. They are so sweet against mine.
My hands take one final run across this tract of false tranquility before I let the realization take hold. Your skin is so cold to my touch.........you're no longer breathing.....
...you're dead to me darling
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