As there will be songs that we will swallow, nicotine-breathed,

Whose drunken melodies compose our theme,

There will be books we will devour with famine-struck eyes

Whose passages we will name our children after.


As there will be poems and letters we will create and destroy as gods

With backspace deletions and crushed paper balls that miss the basket,

There will be music and photographs,

That will guitar the CYMK evidence of a two-in-one life.


As there will be years of stories and art and films

That narrates the dossiers and archives of a union,

There will be biscuit scented bodies and morning breathe murmurs,

In the sapidity of this small world after all.


A sphere of oneness we recognise, as us.

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