She, The Solstice Slut
I melt in the distance of your stare that,
along with your pen's unused and almost withdrawn ink, along
the words you do not utter yet eat during and every brunch, along
the nose slanting thin and smooth on your murky, misty face, along
the logic of your toes and beautiful pose like a prose of a poet savagely
poisoned, you too melt in the distance of my pause.
along with your pen's unused and almost withdrawn ink, along
the words you do not utter yet eat during and every brunch, along
the nose slanting thin and smooth on your murky, misty face, along
the logic of your toes and beautiful pose like a prose of a poet savagely
poisoned, you too melt in the distance of my pause.
Labels: Cirilo Bautista
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