142. Full on Empty

My arms paddle air,
Reaching to hold on.

My mind declares,
To mask like a con.

Speaking about true,
Giving all things name.

But my body moves to you,
Embracing everything insane.

Give me a million reasons,
Why this is genuine despair.

Our fingers interlock,
Putting a stop to the clock.

With a chest racing rush,
We're both pulled in as such.

Arms wrapped around you become art,
Like fingertips embracing your heart.


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