I did not learn your name or hear you speak.
Cast in bronze, try Gabriele? I thought
you suited that; the seraphim of week
one in Altea. Black two-piece. I caught
a wink, a smirk over the shoulder. Dive
in. Spying from the Spanish balcony,
third floor, your evening moves stir in me, live,
some fear I can’t forget. Emerge, salt sea-
wet, take a seat at Bar Negreta, please.
The vodka mixed with sweat, fruit, youth – I sip
and meet you there. Eighteen. Exchange room keys.
I seize you – no. Not close. Boys, only. Tip
the waiter. Heady rise from fantasy
or spirits, watching heart ache silently.
3
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About the Creator
Sophia dos Remedios
Doctor by day, writer by night, activist always
she/her, LG{B}T+
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