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There are midnight secrets unwhispered between us, crazing my skin like old porcelain. Years of our lives drawn on the wrong maps.

I live in thrall to another version of myself, who wakes with you in the deepest shadows of the morning, wearing my need for you like silk. In that wanting darkness, I watch your eyes glint, feel my need stripped away like silk—replaced by your hands on my body, your mouth on my body, your flesh and mine in concert until I wear your soul, soft and warm like cashmere.

I don’t need anything more.

Just that, but we are oceans apart, walking the same streets, crazed with unwhispered secrets.