Illuminate the
long violet filaments,
hair soft and
light as the web clinging
to the picture
frames, family photos
erect on the
table near the window.
Light streaming
through the curtain
of hair, purple
like the flowers in your garden.
It blankets our
faces,
reflects and
mixes with your lipstick,
the skin appears
a mottled blue.
But the flesh is
warm,
moist as it
slicks and slides
over my mouth.
I press against
you hard,
try to forget
that your
boyfriend
should be home
any moment,
that mine is
already waiting.
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