last night i had several nonspecific thoughts
about distance, or sadness, or impermanence
it was as if all sounds and textures existed independently of me
and independently of human experience in general
it was late and we were on drugs
my body felt weak or depleted
you were was facing away from me
my hand was barely touching your arm
we laid in your bed and mumbled together
consciously allowing ourselves to experience the absence of loneliness
resigned to the knowledge that we will never be able to fully express anything
in the morning your breath was sour and i felt angry at you
i imagined the sound of your voice, in the future
when you hate me more than you ever have
then i felt the comforting abrupt movements
of your hand pushing against my face
i was reminded of a hospital waiting room
ten years ago
when i still had asthma attacks
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