It was seven pm,

although you say I was late,

when I saw your face again

for the first time in a year.

I can only describe the feeling

which passed through my arms

into my heart, as electricity.

My only point of reference

being the time I jammed my finger

into the place the bulb should be

in my bedside lamp.

And it was fantastic, that

nauseating taste of death

being so close to life;

as if blood were dripping

from my lips when you leant in

for a kiss.

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© Kristiana Reed 2019