Found in the Archives 1

Found in my archives –

“Lonely,” he said. “Comfort me.”
So we began, by email that bared too much and revealed too little.
Back and forth, stepping into what we do not know.
A month ago, he lost his wife. Twenty-five years ago, we kissed.
“I remember,” he said, “and that memory feeds me.”
I remember, but single for too long, I coil into myself.
Still, we type, fingers seeking the marrow of our fears.
“Stop,” I said. Or did I say slow?
We met for lunch.

Needless to say, this didn’t work out.

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