Photo: Alfred Cheney Johnston
Twilight pours its licorice
across my tongue and I am
hostage to the bittersweet
taste of impetuous.
Romanced by starlight
sugaring the sky I let my body
learn the language of yours.
I never pack regrets
or salt wounds with weakness.
Tonight will write its memoir
in sandalwood and bergamot
across my skin…
Tomorrow is still a daydream.
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