Forget what the doctor said

Sweet musty murmurings

Of dark thoughts and attic dreams

Stated simply

“I think you’d make a good mother.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. But I told you, didn’t I? I can’t have children.”

“You told me. I think if you want to, you can.”

Fingers grazing, bodies nestling

Candles lit, movie playing

Heavy, slow words

That lead to kissing

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