peacemakers
perhaps we realise that this isnt ours to behold
exchanging color as we do breath, unconsciously.
the seventy-seven degree retreat keeps me
low and unstimulated
and hungry.
his smile is like a cotton-ball-cheeked pleasance.
he pumps green veins through teeth
giving us sweet ambrosia, elixir i know.
i need to color between your lines
and keep from running further.
it is so tempting.
the nutrients are in the rind.
its good for your prostate
and pink, and sweet.
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