This One Time, While Back
she sits on my shoulders, wrapping, twining
long legs warm round my neck
so tight at times, I cannot
breath
she looks long in my eyes
deep and intent
past the glass as if to discover
everything
to pull it all up, to
study it
is truth a product of vanity, some kind of
futility
as is said
sometimes
I see nothing unless it sees me
and she is so much of my system
right now
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