dragging its knuckles,
jaw on the floor;
the air, it gets heavy.
I looked across the room and into your eyes;
words won’t say what goes in where,
and won’t what goes in here; but
we never backed from
that first eternity
we’d dropped into.
And, later, that night,
our mouths telling
tales to our tongues,
truth you could never take back...
By god, we were something new,
under the sun; smoke that one,
Aristotle
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