Before Kindle. (F451)

In the plumpness, in the ticking of our stage  
You stained,  
You were the evermore, the capturing of a moment, the capsule of my spirit and  
Was so many blurred events that led to here,  
The conclusion of an ending  
The disillusionment of your pure form  

I whispered your name in a coffee shop on the East side  
Between the tickerdy tap of dials and aggravated look ups from little, back-lit screens,  
I lusted after the lumps one gets on their inner finger from hard pencil grip,  
I touched myself in toilets filled with an acceptable usage for you,  
I wept for your lovers of lead and ink and crayons and paint.  
I gargled quotes you gifted me between electric brushing and spitting fluoride.  
I missed your scent when I'd run the tip of my nail along your insides.  
How lucky I was to know you, to read with you, to write with you, and bathe, still, in all our shame.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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