with my morning coffee

“I’ll be seeing you, in every lovely summer’s day” Billie’s faint velvet aria, 
his hands balmy at the small of my back, 
slow dancing in my living room to the witching hour’s grovel. 
I close my eyes and see streaks of green, 
the silken sway of our bodies disinter impressions that sit 
encompassed within each nucleus of my cells: 
this moment we have known through bygone skeletal frames and 
skin pink from the blood of hidden progenitors.

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