traitorous space/the ones left behind

The narrow space between our wrists
morphs into dangerous temptation.

Step by step under broiling white lights,
slowly, suddenly, slyly…floating away from
coded commitments and shapeless sheets,
we fall into fair florid irises, promising
all without so much as a word.

Traitorous space
briskly, bindingly, boldly…slips swiftly away
in our hour of need.

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