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the interim of 14.
i debate the unsaid words
that strain with persistence
from your eyes,
eyes of emerald cities
with buildings tipped with gold.
in increments we sip
on beer laced with lust,
as we slip from the safety
of kisses
into the free fall of unknown.
i know
you won't remember the shape
of my mouth in the morning,
but that's just fine,
for my eyes are petals
destined to fall in defeat,
and your fingers along
my cheekbones
are memories meant
to be forgotten.
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