last kiss collapses
on hymeneal amber
like grated nutmeg
.
This soul knows that you’ve heard mine
murmur
of the I who caused thine thunder under
your garment true
I saw the flush
the blush
of your pink
your face
when they read mine page
Oh the commotion
when the read was of the flush
yes
that pink blush
you left ‘pon the likes of i
when
you pranced on the me
pressed on the me
with your hymeneal
flesh
Of the trust
‘twixt
the us
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