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Breath Holds in Air

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It’s funny how, even in the dark, pitch black, when the sounds are all you see, you know the cloud of your breath hovers inches away—tiny particles of moist, of germs, of the last thing you drank, the last person you kissed. Floating, because those particles float, it’s science though I don’t know why, it’s just science, evaporate, maybe later, but for now float and get colder and float then maybe freeze, those germs frozen forever, the mix of saliva of DNA yours and mine freezes, maybe, probably, it’s science and it freezes and hovers and I can walk away from it and a part of you will still be there a part of me still there until it’s sunrise and the world thaws out and maybe later becomes now before you know it, it’s gone, I know it.



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