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Stolen dance

Stolen DanceVenezia May
00:00 / 02:04

On good days, I do not think 

of you as the sum of your pixels. 


I’ve taken to religiously 

recording your body in motion 

similar to how artists 

bring life to a painting with different 

shades of the same colour. 

during the moments of 

silence when 

I cannot feel your 

heat, I write your eyebrows

as a shade of hot Americano

the way they lift and furrow

in fluid motion molten 

on my lips, and reread

paragraphs where your arms

raised from a yawn 

build themselves as 

overhead bridges 

burnt from the noon sun.

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