By The Streetlamp
Written: July 28, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
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Salted lips confect rust melt,
In my mouth hangs mango smoke.
Bread with oil seeps bitter gloom,
citrus spews on copper tongues.
Vanilla beats in the haze,
ash stays like razed molasses.
The lamp spills sweets on your chin,
my thirst croons of gold and grit.
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