When the talking is quite
Of stories of loves
And how eternally we are bound
Each to their own love
And not to the other
When the laughter is shushed
And the sweating is come
With its screaming and scratching
Of stiff and thrusting forms
Whence the joys and hurts come
We look into each other
And search for a tomorrow
In the depth of our embrace
As we lose each a friend
Into the unknowns of a new us
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