When this is over take the long way home, talk to the dogs on the street about loneliness and the art of making love under the open sky. Click a picture of a stranger doing nothing, Standing still, living an ordinary life unaware of your existence. Hold your mother's hands observe the lines of her palms the wrinkles on her skin the intricate network of veins carrying blood. When this is over go to a beach or a mountain and remember all good things begins elsewhere. Maybe you should not go anywhere you should sit next to me talk about how nothing makes sense anymore Or maybe we should not talk about anything we should make love my body your body and our shared tragedy. s.m
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