It’s the way sometimes I want to inhale you like the scent of warm sidewalks steaming after rain, like April lilacs full-globed and yearning for the bees. It’s the way I want to linger on the landscape of your fingers, palm, throbbing pulse. I want to synchronize myself with you, breathe with the swell of your lungs, lulled by your rhythms, hypnotic as ocean waves; to surface from the depths of dreams to find you, in blue shallow morning, waking.
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