Passing

 

Passing

 

The cloud moves its cold body

across the sky and

with one great inhale

saps the warmth from your own

 

leaving you breathless,

numb to the firm curve

of rib,

lost to the rise of

soft hollow

 

until the throat of your sky 

hums 

and expands,

responding as if 

 

it never doubted

you 

 

as if it knew

the cloud 

was not able

 

as if nothing 

could ever truly change

its light.

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