When there were kisses

When there were kisses, even if only in my dreams, they could one day come true. Didn’t we take that for granted? Between the embrace of dream and the solace of a stolen moment in touch lie the arrows, the bottles, the signs.

The mask.

We weren’t meant to be this way – alone, even when we were. Lonely, even when we were not. Hello you there, standing in my world. It never crossed our minds that we would be over there, worlds apart, shouting and wondering what it used to be like when we could touch. A handshake. A pat on the back.

A kiss.

Who is it now that lies in the dark, clutching at the gathering darkness? Their dreams or even hope that were enough because they could at once become real? Now stolen, hidden away, standing over there. Dissolving into mist that is too far away to touch.

Hold on. Dream. For it was only a moment ago when we could shake hands. Pat a friend on the back.

Only a moment ago.

When there were kisses.

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