pictures of you

the ocean is old

my lover is young

swimming is forbidden

 

open your window

i called to her

“butterflies are fluttering!”

 

“this wine, too rich

i’ve yet to finish

my second glass”

 

with drunken breath

she braids

her names

 

upon my chest

watches them sink

they settle my skin

 

the next day

our words

make love

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