(date unknown)
All the good places
Have soft edges
And taste sweet
Even though neither is
Soft nor sweet,
Like a rose or like candy
Even though
I recall them that way
Having prodded and poked
In such places
So long in the past
I can’t remember quite
What it really feels like
Why I still want it,
Why I still want to see it,
Why I still want to feel it,
Tasting honey that is not honey,
Easing into places
Too soft to be real
Like dream-waking
With only the vague
Recollection of what was,
The trickle on my skin,
My lips, my hips,
Seeing it all through
The haze of
Half-closed eyes
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