Photo by National Historical Museum of Sweden (NHM) on Unsplash
There are flowers growing
where once you lay your head on my lap
fruits ripe with sugary juice, fruit flies drunk on their nectar
June arrived with empty promises
...again.
I keep your name beneath my tongue
and bite on it each time it tries to escape
I can hardly bear the ache,
but
I love the salted metallic taste.
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