As the clock ticked .

She wasn’t doing anything I could see
except lay there, holding together
the world of dreaming.

As the clock ticked, and the plot thickens,
I watched her chest movements
like the shore watches the sea.

Her neck holds
the map of worlds I‘ve never known,
and never will.

“What if I kiss her wildly? Madly?”
I remember thinking,
so I could wordlessly say so.

As the clock ticked, and the plot thickens,
I watched her chest movements
like the shore watches the sea.

And I choose silence instead of poems,
made with words
I can only aim to say so.

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