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I feel you there,
blurred around the edges.
Can you feel me here,
this patience game
I'm playing -

A swell at the base of my spine,
an act of divinity or
the dorment
beast waking
with the sunrise -

For every misstep taken
I lie in waiting,
for a time when
the hopped, mist edges
of gold fill your lungs.

When the sky alights
with fireflies,
miles away you kiss
another's misguided flame,
ask questions with no right answer;

and flit across fingertips.