For Allison.
I'm breathing down your neck as my cheek rests on your face. My hand rests on your side as our minds rest in the space before sleep. Finally I'm comfortable and I don't want to open my eyes. Up above, thin white lights move through the night sky. But I'm just tired, and you're undressed. Maybe our adolescence is getting the better of us.
Even in this state I know I'm sleeping with a ceiling four inches from my face. We lie here, our warm flesh coated with a sticky sweat, as The End approaches from the distance and quickens his pace.
The rain will fall, the leaves will turn and I'll still be gone. You sustain your breath and maintain your hope, and you'll move on. And I'll move on.
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