Number 15

I chase you memory every night, my love
this bottle helping me recalling
the way your lips curve nearby my skin,
the way your voice tickle my lobes,
the way your chest inflate under my hand.
And when the moon chases me,
      – under the spotlight
I raise up my sight,
and her, from that distance
she can reflect it too
the love I would, every night
give to you.

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Rarefied

She grabbed her bag, hustling with her eyes wide open, her breath getting shorter, ignoring the questions of the people sitting around her. She went out from the pub and took out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down the memories of the last two weeks that time was erasing from her mind.