I can feel your words weave in
and out of the spaces between my very breaths.

I feel sentences string themselves together
somewhere beneath my sternum,
pulling my heartstrings,
deep beneath a driving force
which even I could barely define:

“Kindred,” I nearly choke out,
as suddenly every one of your
premises uses my mouth as a conclusion.

You have “run away with me”
written in fine print on your eyelashes.

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