Centrifuge spinning, separating,
manipulating the very laws of nature
like an
ephemeral twister of heated euphoria
consuming every ounce of your attention,
windily whipping to wherever your worries,
as debris is weightlessly thrashed farther away,
piling up on the outermost edges of perception,
the aftermath starkly seen as the tornado finishes
like the
presence of two in the most blatant of loves
as they harness their own soft aura of warmth,
dazedly exchanging flourishing minds via hushes,
blissfully whole without the burden of tomorrow,
muffled by monumentally momentous moments,
leaving only a lasting longing when it arrives.
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