And if only we could start again …

And starting again would

be fine; and

right; and wiser than

wiser ever was: 

and I’d start on your soul

and your cells and your

sells and your sex 

and your sevens and sixes 

and the ones made so too

for us two to-

get[h]her!!!

And yet the melancholy

which now over-

comes me is the losing of

past and the 

future I touched for a

moment that day

we met on that

night of such joyous encounter. 

And no longer does my

passed wish to

linger with me, in

sexual arousals and

movements and

the trusting

thrusting only love

can proclaim.

And no longer does the

future you promised

hope to wish me

away in be-

whisked energy,

and activity and

frenzied assurances.

And the certainty of her

professing and the

security of your profession

melded at the one minute

our eyes locked and touched

each other in windowed soul:

so transparently and 

clear was the glance that

lanced my being

and made me realise a future

full of

love may one day exist,

after all.

But when?

And with whom, if 

no longer

with

yous?

And how?

And now?

And if not now, goddamnit 

then

when?

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