Moments; always moments; only moments

Stopping and listening to both of us breathe, I wish this moment wasn't a moment. I feel it—so do you—I know you do—that point where we are indistinguishable—where I am mixed with you and you with me—where neither of us knows where the other begins and where the “me” stops. There is no “me” here; there is only a both of us. Feeling that space where the indiscretion of us both equals an infinity unstrapped by the dimensions of time; where the infinite shatters the temporal inside our convulsing bodies--where the infinite melds somewhere into the nowhere. Stopping, feeling the moment pass—feeling the blanket of eros that hid us from the world evaporate into the ceiling above us—and sighing in the intimacy and loneliness of time.