You’re It.

by on July 14, 2014 :: 0 comments

we played tag at twenty-two
faces facing and knees
bracing for the next attack

we shared breaths
not of heated passion but
of complete exhaustion, and
like clocks ticking, kept time
to the end of our days

we wanted to clasp hands,
brush cheeks, inch closer
and closer and closer
but in a field we shared with others
we had to settle for a play date and tag

editors note:

Tag, to please the field, when the game of choice is touch an’ tussle? Trash the field, touch away. – mh

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