Imagine we wake up tomorrow and nothing has happened, nothing had happened. We will never see in our lives again the moments we now refuse. Think of what we would never know, if we doubted this reality, however fleeting. One day, one night, maybe, or not, or more. Are you still doubting? Take my eyes, my words. Take my hand. Let us run. Even if only in fantasy, tonight can be a detour, a respite, an exaltation.

My heart could be a stone, granite, or slate. My heart could be a crystal in a raging stream. My heart is a poet’s heart. And this is the end, or the beginning, decades in the making. Decade of design. This kiss is, hello. This kiss is, goodbye. This kiss is, I love you. This kiss is now. Forever is but a dream.

Our destinies have been commingled. The blood in our veins is shared. You have some blood that is mine, but that I have never known. I have some blood that is yours, but that you have never known. Yours is mine; mine, is yours. Found, anew, for the first time. Never to be found again.

Do you have me? Yes, you have me now. You have me no more. Everything is an instance. This is precisely what is pleasing. If you have to look for me, I have already gone.