Drifting thoughts of us strike during the long hours of the day
It’s that time once again
But we won’t talk about it now
We’ll say so much to fit in
The space between the silence
But those days where we lit up the sky,
We won’t talk about that now
Fantasies creep in
Some days, or most days,
What we’ve done behind locked doors,
Bodies exposed, breathing close
But we don’t talk about that now
Not now, not even close…
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