Pixabay
The same space on
which we lay together for
five weeks — till our bones aged —
now only a bed near a dagger of light.
My gut feels no time, but my head
feels no rest. Parts of you lingering
with the same eucalyptus
that made your skin blush and grow,
A surface, I can barely recall
under these nerves.
Let’s make it bad again, and make it
right.
About the Creator
Squeeze D' Avocado
Asterion, Jess, Avo, and all the other ghosts.
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