Truth will come is a cold, lonely street
My mind starts to wander
Drifting into the cold
She speaks
Her words
Cluttered
Floating
Crazy
I gasp for air
Words became sentences
Dry
Graceless and chaotic
Make her stop
My hands are twitching
I stay silent
Bite my lips hard
She leans over
Her lips brushes against mine
The kiss
Final and unfinished
She whispers in my ear
A realization
Cold and painful
I stood still
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