in sync, distinct
the two kinds of warmth
in the world
the first,
one that reminds me of puppy paws
and hot metal grates
the second,
of soft touches
a feeling
a warmth
that rises in my core
that spreads like vacuum released
and so quickly as it scatters
it dissipates into a fog
of longing for warmth number two
a lifelong waiting
breached by momentary releases
a cavernous, constant pocket
momentarily filled
and i will never lose that missing piece
or is it already lost
and i will never lose that missing piece
or is it finally breached
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