Posted inArt & Culture

Pulse

On that late December evening, I skirt my hands across your bumpy wrists,beggingfor your pulse.You take my hand, press it to your veins,and I feel the thrumming,loud and strong, against my thumb.I remember it still,the promise of a never ending tunnel.The darkness engulfs me,but I don’t want to see the light. We walk through the black, hand in […]

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