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I'm hanging by so little, like a bead of sweat,
trickling from my forehead to the tip of my nose,
trembling with each shaky inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
I melt involuntarily, pouring over my fingertips onto the marble surface.
With each morsel of my delicquesced structure comes a gust of wind,
Cooling me like candle wax, freezing me in place.
This small second between my question and your answer,
The determination of what is to come for the rest of what was known as "us".
You seem to be at a loss for words, or the sense to use them.
My smile disintegrates, not because of unhappiness,
But because I'm slowly oozing onto the floor at your feet.
Molasses I have become. Muscles and tendons are gone. I can't pick myself up.
Inhibitions rush in, the fusion of skinandwordsandfeelings,
More violent than an atomic bombs crash-landing,
More amorous than that three letter word lusters result to in place of love.
i'm liquid in your hands.
you're solid in my heart.
this feeling is sublime.