Something I wrote

I found this on my floor. I kind of like it.

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She wrote the story of herself at a pub while he sat in rapt attention. She saw with unfocused temerity his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, he looked like sleep and the passing of small glances. She wrote the story of herself through smoke weary conversation and the practiced sipping of drinks. He sat with perfect attention as the room fogged and swirled in that giddy anticipatory moment before a kiss, or sudden stumble over unseen obstacles in the inebriated night.
Her story was spoken, written and transcribed into the night air, her name was spoken and power ceded upon it’s utterance. He watched as her aura grew, her face a glow of soft words and slight movements. The chakra of meeting opens, eyes strike an understanding as a half heard song fades into static. She wrote the story of herself and with the rapt attention of discovery the night listened, responding with a clear sky and the overture of home.

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