Love letter # 481

If once I hoped that time and distance would quell the fire – now I understand how spectacularly those gambits have failed. Seeing you again. So near. So fucking far away. What I felt to be true – still true. Beating steady. Counting time. Measuring the distance between dread and desire. For you sit opposite me now. Polite space observed. The quiet diplomacy of not touching. A candle burning down untended. Little flame sputtering. A swirl of smoke. A dissipation. And in the mad vermillion sky of my wanting – the wonderful flood of monsoon rain. Preparing to wash everything away.

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