Fleeting
Kind eyes, midnight eyes meeting my melancholy green.
A conversation in glances, in magnetic looks, learning each other without words.
Her eyes are beautiful and warm and so right now, seeing the me that I am, laid bare, the me without masks, without the choice of presentation. Soothing stormy eyes, calm in a tempest eyes, seeing the me that maybe only God sees.
Soft finger-tips brush my cheek, my chin, my lips.
Then a fleeting kiss.
A fleeting kiss.
A fleeting kiss.
A flash of perfect moments kept in existence with imperfect words.
Lovers not to be, want to be, maybe.
Who knows?
I don’t know.
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