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in this moment
we are truly
infinite
with stars
dusted on our shoulders
thick bands
of moonlights
illuminating
the universe
choreographed
by the
pulse
of our hearts
this powdery
black paint
residing
on my fingertips
i meticulously mark the
scars on your
inner forearm
tracing its uneven
contours
like a skilled tattoo artist
branding an
imprint
to remember
line
after
line
like steps of a ladder
with nothing to hold
on to
maybe that’s why
i never reached your soul
no matter how many times
i’ve tried
climbing into the
perpetual darkness
of your
flesh
i count the
tally marks
i’m not counting the
probability of
winning
as a mathematician would
when i know
you’ve already won your battle
and with that
same powdery residue
you paint
black marks
from my shoulders
to forearms
each one
for each drink
i’ve consumed
i smile because
we have a lot of time
almost reading
my thoughts
she smothers and massages
my entire
arm in black
too many drinks
for us to
count
our sins revealed
and
engraved
we acknowledge our past
that marks
our future
we decide to leave
our own marks
i trace the corners
of her lips
and she slides black
lines
around my neck
and when we kiss
that tingling feeling
in my
spine
i feel like all the
tally marks are gone
but we keep
marking each other
aimlessly
and
deliberately
because we are
marking memories now
memories that
remind us
of us
and we kiss some more
in this blissful atmosphere
and for once
we’ll try to ignore
the tainted
gardens of eden
and
crumbling cities
below us
for they have been marked too
a different kind
of mark
the kind that we fell for
for too long to count