cygnoir.net the black swan with digital wings

interlude

i brushed every last one of your knuckles against my cheek,
i made you feel that way, the behind-the-knees way,
i made sure those fingers of yours strayed too long in my hair,
i made you feel that way, the gentle-queasy way,
and you breathed harder than when you laughed.

i made it. i made this moment exist,
you were an incident, an interlude in my timeline,
and if we both smile the same way, if we have the same shape and shade of clavicle, we can pretend we were alike.

decide which one you want to be, she says to me. decide between this or that. only i know she’s kidding. she won’t know until years from now.

please, just stay here at this point of relevance.
i will graph and chart you, slide rules over your curves,
i will blossom and swallow and furlong you until you wake up.
pretend with me. i have only a few minutes.