Touched-
the tip of his index finger spiraling about
my soul, binding me to
this
moment.
I am whole-
filled with his breath
that waxes and wanes
above me.
Our only witness-
the skeletal trees
that embrace me,
grounding me to this
truth.
Our souls merge-
dovetailing.
The moment when we wrench
apart
tears me in two.
This is what remains.
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