marigold

i miss that unique beat
she offered on the dance floor,
with her sun-faded converse
pounding against the polished
surface.

during a jumpy
nameless little swing,
she grabbed my hand
and swung my heart with her,
her bleached hair arcing across
the strobe.
we held the tempo
in our little way,
skipping around such minor
trivialities, like names.

she pulled me out into the alley,
pressing her worn jeans against
my innocent form,
and danced between
the beads of sweat
from neck to parted lips
paralyzed.
taking in the soft scent
of summer heat,
she whispered:

i'll make you fade too

- - -

she tasted of wilting
and musk.





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