20.3.12

Flume

Sometimes
I imagine 
that by some 
miraculous mistake
somehow
we would kiss.

And we would both mean 
it.
We could both be taken 
aback by our actions.
Blushing and stuttering.
But somewhere my
mind holds out,
wants that.
Wants to know
how you kiss.

Wants to know
what you think.

Wants to know
why I care.

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