lolita’s poem

your love is my cigar

sweetly and slowly burning
decorating my mouth with loops of almond oak honey smoke

where sacred love languages rest and implode

twirling and fading

exhaled and lost again

pinot noir waits on my tongue
and blue black sky
above you and I on secret balconies
way up high
while i drink and drink your velvet lies
and your black diamonds for eyes
piercing into mine
it feels so good I could almost die
i feel flowers imploding in my thigh

and I would go to the ends of the world, if it would make you love me
but you’d rather crack the sky in half


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