At sixteen we touched each-other… intimately, in a heavily scented evening of lilac and dogwood (i solved you, then, with the subtle nuance of borrowed word and mannerism…
a borrowed eccentricity,sneakedly snuck from an actor and ambiguousness that i knew that you loved).
After words.
we walked in suggestive shade, and atmosphere, of an prehistory muffled external world, that seemed to respond, and come-of-age with us, by the hyper-sensitivity our touch.

We walked in the darkness. That i can only remember now;… in the way that a romantic can only remember…. In a visually striking, plastic sort of intoxicating pantomime:
probably talking of extravagant sensual riches and expensive defiant dreams; that we both knew (secretly of course, for to verbally confess it… openly, would be to admit to an unbearable commonness) that we would never live, nor fully understand….
Parting, in a manner, that i prefer now  in picturing it… for dramatic intent, effect, and meaning (Poetics)… … In perfectly unison silence.

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