You promised me a poem.

You promised me a poem.

You promised me a poem.
The room number would have sufficed to begin it with.
The red light gleaming in the darkness.
Blanket our bodies entwined.
I held back as you tried to reel me in.
You relished what’s left of my yearning to be touched.
I shed as much desire.
Let our passion burn to ashes.
We left the room full of dust.
We let the wind blow away that dust.
Left every single speck roam across the universe.
By now, the specks may have reached the end of the galaxy.
And I still wait for the poem you promised.
I haven’t grown tired of waiting.
And here I still wait.
I catch each speck of the long gone dust.
Stitch them together every night.
In hopes of reuniting with a love
That never began yet never ceased.
In a world that made me believe anything could happen,
I could hold onto that at the very least.

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