it's hard
to balance
slivers of sunshine
on your tongue
when all you really want
is to devour
the whole
damn
thing
when eyes stare so hard
and
burn so bright
they cut
like knives
and
hearts sizzle
how bacon might
on a
summer rock
the color of the sky
is in
your face
heavy and full
almost ripened moon
these things...
they are why I keep coming back
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