Her breath was warm with coffee and sin,
Laced dark on my tongue, sharp and thin;
A bitter taste clung to the curve of her smile,
As dawn broke, trembling, and silent awhile.
Her hands, soft thieves, curled 'round my waist,
Stealing the quiet I longer to taste;
The sheets smelled of dusk, of cinnamon's ghost,
Of promises lost, of love turned...
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