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.
© Kristiana Reed 2019