Wet Spot
You're gone
I like to think your soul wears an aurora
like a starlet dons full-length mink
whipping freely across the galaxy
so, dazzling-right in front of me
flashing that pink pearl between two meat fangs
knowing that kissing it would surely cause endless pain.
I'm still waiting for a sign from the other side,
That wet spot in my dream...could that be you?
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