Messy Affairs
Swirling smoke, coming undone in cool august air,
I'll have an unmarked grave-so long as your lips are my last lair;
A hazy dive deep in trenches of your chest,
closest to your heart-an otherwise impossible quest;
designs worth turning ashes for.
if unscathed, is it even amor?
How my etched footprints are charred-my
only residue, now your breaths marred.
Just brief blazed affairs, where passion overrides prudence, sensibility triumphs senses.
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