in the midst of every break-up I remember my lovers as I met them. the blissful attraction, a gravitational sink. "the honeymoon effect". an aberration of think. reality catches up in a thermomechanical wash, and imagining futures becomes intangible loss. I'd risk a second crash just to sooner sample her thoughts, but we're set in our tracks. The banter is lost, and I lose her to complicated orbits and scattering rocks, light displays, class and can't talk. The constant state of morbid decays after the shock. Celestial bodies destined for separate stars.
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