Wanderlust was like bleeding.

I never liked to sever skin:
content to decompress
in the current vignette
indefinitely.

I would go places with you.
You would be the exception.

Every conversation an adventure:
never knowing what subject
will trip your hair trigger,
catapulting us into contention.

I would follow you
into the whiskey depths
of your soul.

But I would never tell you.

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