deuce.

you place it in my hand.

i inhale and exhale

as it hovers between my finger tips.

the fog and smog sets in.

between the metal platforms, steps are taken,

as you creep closer to the garden that has no key.

his face sinks me.

as you approach the gate,

i can't do this.

i go inside to wait for something.

for either him to call my name and for him to hear me calling his.

or maybe i'm waiting for you to take it anyway.

but i shut my eyes and shook and was shaken.

by what i could not unravel.

eager to bite on a lip other than mine.

to live in someone's dreams other than mine.

to feel something other than those i've bottled.

and you offered me a sip.