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It was a Tuesday night when
we ran through sheets of rain,
the streets were dead and we:
alive, hand in hand and half
drunk standing at the crosswalk,
we were in no rush as we let
ourselves soak in the moment,
tempted to peel each other from
stuck fabrics–this is not a drunk
habit 
nor is it love but something
absolute.

I want you. All of you–
pressed against all of me,
our 
skins being all to keep
us apart.

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