In love,
Your fingers crawl over to hope,
A hand finds meaning in another,
Warmth of two bodies pouring into each other,
Eyes searching, stolen glances
Then there is comfort of a hand that feels just like yours,
Then love turns darker,
Like blood flowing deep red and then drying up, just a scab
An itch.
It turns the color of hopelessness.
Epiphanies of the meaningless of it.
Your hand sweating in theirs.
The warmth singeing your skin
Eyes darting away.
All so Uncomfortable.
In love.

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