I must have centuries in my blood
I must’ve met you before
Perhaps I dreamed you at conception before my
spirit had formed

I’ve had your taste in my mouth
long before we kissed
and you dug your teeth into my neck as if it were made of
fucking canvas
my legs parted before you as if there were perforated lines
like God’s only purpose was to make this design

You said, “you’re twenty four going on one hundred”
with your head on my chest
your limbs curled against me so tight I could
feel every twitch I could count every beat
of your heart thudding through my bones
until I forgot how to speak

Next time
next time when you are not you and I am not me
I will inhale the past from your lungs
so you can finally breathe

in
out
in

           by ChaseB

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