my skin felt like a outstretched and
outworn holiday sweater,
while his skin looked tailor made.
both of us had surrendered to our private worlds as
a fly pierced the mutually-created
cloak of silence between us,
cutting Zorro-like tears in our consciousness.
unbeknownst to this fly was the
ever-escalating contemplation of its demise;
as it forced me to acknowledge the
thick barbed wire between mind and body
i, unhesitatingly, sought revenge.
the evanescence of this desire
began as he looked over at me, pensively,
his eyes inviting me to ignore the
fly that had awoken us from our
coma of introversion, and stay awhile.
his feelings manifested themselves
in words, in energies, in tones, in tears.
i welcomed the vulnerability i had refused to show,
one hand still on the barbed wire between
thought and action, secrecy and performance, safety and reality.
we retreat back to our private worlds,
and the fly i'd forgot existed
foolishly awoke my awareness
and as it sacrificed life by these two hands,
i consciously sunk back to unconsciousness
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