Dusk absorbs light on its way to darkness
and hinders the eye’s understanding
All that was clear in the chartreuse trees
becomes murky with the lowering sun
Even the pressure of your fingertips on my breast
though it lingered through the remainder of my day
moistening me
has become a rumor
Night falls after the last silver glow of orange
and I try to know your lips again
but they are gone
If I had known it would be the last time
I would have tasted all of you
I would have burned the feel
of your silky back onto my fingertips and
forced forever your nipples into the palms of my hands
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