Moment (First)

exhale escapes

"warm rush of chemicals" 
drip from my fingertips

as I feel the dopamine of you
slowly
fade
out
to the ends of me

Could
and 
Meant
vie for space
in the expanding void
(the twilit droke of my imagination)

drip.
drip.
drip.

"there's no indication of what we were meant to be"
but could we...?

fingers curl
1
2
3
tips/palm

outside pushing inside
stem the flow

it is my open palm
that stops,
it.

and I
connect
to you.

warm rush like wildfire 
floods back in
to the center of me

the only contact
index/palm

drips stop

connection

(a) breath        shared

unfurl

calm

drip.
drip.
drip.

(stop)



- r. poet