Your heart’s race.

I don’t remember your face, the way it smelled
– forehead on chin –
I squint, and take deep breaths.

I forget the sound of our voices
lobbing words, and word strings;
how they play as bed mates – laced harmonic interruptions.

The rise and fall and rise
of your chest
fall and rise,
and fallandrise.

racing with your heart’s race.

Written – just now – Tuesday, April 30th, 2013 at home, with a glass of red wine, in my pj’s.

Your heart's race.
Photo made Sunday, December 30th, 2012, in Baguio, The Philippines.

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