serrated.susurrated.separation

there are some places pixellated characters cannot reach.

i like to think my heart extends beyond those limitations,
settling neatly in the crevices created by my meteorite language;
i like to think the breezes that make you shiver are the sighs i heave
(to try to fill the dead air where your absence is strongest:
beside me),
carried aloft on molecules and atoms
and unevenly heated earth to where you are.

i picture you closing your eyes,
envision your hair lifting from your temples to settle again moments later.

across the projection screen behind my lids,
we are playing in sweetly piercing clarity:
fingers woven tightly together by needles unseen,
our ribcages locked into one another.
my face is on your shoulder;
your chin is in the fluff springing wild from my head.

(the sky outside is a study in washed-out pinks and glaring blues and melting oranges.)

the space between my exhale and your inhale is infinitesimal;
there are some places pixellated characters cannot reach.

across the screen,
behind my lids,
your fingertips are pressing codes into the network of my skin,
searching for the master key.
numbers and letters and letters and symbols;
i am complex and you are clever.

(there are some places)

when the fringe of my lashes separates,
our cheeks are creasing valleys in the pillow beneath our heads,

(there are some places pixellated characters cannot reach)

and the breeze gently scraping my cheek is your sleeping breath.

there are some places pixellated characters cannot reach-

but this is not one of them.

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