Early Morning August

We walk snow streets,
Post scatters the pavements.
There are reasons we don’t kiss
But I can’t comprehend them.

In a two screen world
With opaque windows
He waits for her return.
He speaks beneath his breath.

Voices beyond streetlights,
Dream-wet lashes.
Our mouths unmeeting.
Our taciturn eyes.

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About Vince Stephen

You can find information about me on my blog's "About" page.
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