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I.
dreaming of your face asleep.
those little pinpricks of pigment.
the crease in the bridge of your nose
i deemed to be cute.
the soft slope of your slack muscles
curling yellow lashes over moodring green eyes.
and you are still a boy

II.
i couldn't sleep
so i dosed myself with lavander lotion
and sappy love songs
only thing more poetic
would be a lazy haze
lingering on my bone sinew
but each nerve
each breath
(cold air against the spaces


between my teeth)
i woke up at 3 am
holding onto my pillow





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