than I could have ever imagined,
at least before climbing into this bed.
Beauty cascades like water,
murky, swirled sort of blue.
It dries as quickly as not,
and before now I never knew.
I know now the dynamite of skin,
and the unanswerable warmth
that squirms within.
But unless I be denied it all,
I better be careful with my
hands, say no names, dream
no dreams, pick no sides.
No one angel sleeps in the skies.
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