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The Breaks in The Brush

Once upon a time
In a land not too far
Strode a man with his woman
Down the points of a star.

When their pockets were combined
Neither had a nickel nor a dime
But a basket full of time
And sweetheart candies
Embossed “Be mine?”

Neither was expectant
Yet both were reluctant
To enrich their conjunction
With nouns and verbs.

They supposed
It was the way they juxtaposed
That they ended up in an alcove
Of sun and vacuum.

The sun was warm
Caressing their form
As they pressed their bodies
Into one entity.

Their eyes peered up.
The breaks in the brush
Allowed them to be present
In two worlds:
Theirs and their own.

She turned to him and gazed.
He absorbed the sun, dazed.
She knew she could breathe
Because he was there.

When he returned her stare
They sighed without a care
And took and inhale
Of each other’s essence.

She looked into his eyes
Splattered with amber and
Cornflower blue
And smiled,
Knowing she was secure,

When their lips aligned
So did the stars
And the clouds, the birds,
And the heavenly beings
Surrounding the skies.

She called it “The Big Bang”,
It was the reason why
She had been able to sing
In the shower again.

They supposed
It was the way they juxtaposed
That they ended up in an alcove
Of sun and vacuum.

The color of the sky
Was rich and dry
And filled with content
As far as they could see.

But the sky wasn’t his focus:
She was.
The break in the brush
And he was her saving grace
And her latest flush.

She loved him
And he loved her
And the world was right.
The world was theirs
Their own.

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