we became those people overnight,
fantasists who daydream holding
hands and speak in whispers of ‘true love’
like nothing came before a kiss across
the console of a Chevy Cruz or
will exist without space curvature
across the low points of
our spines…
~
i’ve fanned the flames
and lost myself in
your geometry.
____
© Ben Ditmars 2017
The Midnight Writer 