Poetry, story, Uncategorized, Writing

for the love of strangers – I

the-lovers-2

The Lovers by Rene Magritte (1928)

she had waited for days. those days seemed to expand. every second, minute, hour expanding, encompassing eternities. everything else seemed to float around this future day. existing as a vessel for her fevered anticipation. the world thrumming, in sync with her body, caressing her fantasies, waiting for her to abandon pretense, civility, even empathy. the world would be swallowed up by her flame. all life drowned and lit up with her desire.
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