"This
is perfect for us,"
you say,
turning
up the radio.
It blares
too
confident
into the
night,
daring
me
to match
my own
with
its
boldness.
For just
this moment,
I can.
Breathe
deep,
feel it
surge
through.
Infinity
bathes us
in
yellow
street light
that zips
through
car windows
onto my
legs;
briefly
we are
invincible
because
of
mutual
understanding.
My tongue
tries to
find
grateful
thoughts
to
express
meaning,
sanctify
moment,
cement
thought.
But
words
clunk
against
my teeth,
leave me
open
mouthed,
gasping.
You're
singing now,
so I
join.
Hollow
pop
songs,
but
singing them
with you
makes
them
worth
something.
Makes me
realize
what
you
mean
to me,
what
me
means
to you.
I will
lose this feeling
too
quickly.
This
utter bliss
of
knowing
you,
knowing
my own,
fully,
deliciously
whole.
Slide an
IV
swiftly
into my
veins.
Give it
to me,
please.
Never
stop.
It tastes
like
late
night
car
rides,
loud pop,
bad
harmonies,
and the
familiar comfort
of you.
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