dusk and a red velvet dress and bowl of apples and
a whispered secret against my throat:
you will be my wine, and i have insatiable thirst.
you flame in my veins, you claret diluting my me.
single blazing stars in a prussian blue basin, above the silvered prairie
we reach for each other. moving over the rolling hills and
polished stalks of wheat we become rare, beautiful.
we are a brief galaxy.
fate, destiny, or doom will, uninvited, emerge
and i will not grieve our fortune, or that the sunrise is just.
but breaking day is exquisite agony: and the shadow
you have embossed upon my white white double white sheets.
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