And the space between my legs is growing bigger. And the space from yours to mine is growing smaller. All we are is acceleration. Two particles hurtling through space toward each other. Nothing but trajectory. Nothing but inevitability. Nothing but nothing is stopping us.

I spent the whole night watching your face and counting backwards from three. Three… (I will kiss you once I reach) Two… (This time I will really will do it at) One… (Okay let me start over with) Three… and the carousel spun on and I could not step off. There is something sickly about our mingling breath, our paralysis. The still that we stand. Something ugly and seductive. Something that I hate that I love. Something from which I cannot emerge. The palpable sweetness of not touching you, of having without having you. I am choking on it and smiling.

If I die today, I will never have known the taste of your lips.