The sheets caught fire
The rays of light – like desire.
Subtly etching marks on the skin
Grazing her feet against his shin.
A scent that never seems close enough
Even when they’re intertwined and rough.
Bites on left and right shoulders;
Tracing outlines of each other;
Visions that quivered
Ended with looks that lingered.
It’s morning —
It’s a morning that tasted like burnt pink gin.
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