I feel it again,
the rush of sometime, maybe, possibly, here...
a tear in the weave of my would-be reality,
you, dear heart.
Press restart, no longer replay,
heartaches forgotten,
I want to lie in your arms,
warm and so far, but so worth the stretch,
I want to hold your face,
trace outlines of lips, eyelashes, and contours,
of you.
To remember, every crevice and curve....
I could love you.
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