Intertwined like gloss on your lips
The crystal hue of your eyes animated in the flashes
Of grey sunlight
The smell
Of soda, dark, in your hair from where
We opened it
It is hyper cherry blast
The sugar is what flew wet into the wheat dark
Near the end, where it meets your neck
I should not smell it
But are there rules?
I look at the china cabinet
That hasn't said a word since I arrived
I bow faceously and return to snack.
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