hard liquor, — hesitant waft…

a kiss surprised in appearance

like a comforting guillotine

 ‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧

I never have gone from the place I loved you.

Actually, since then, I sculpt you in heretic poems

with air and without air in my lungs.

Like a cylinder, my sentiments are rolling for being

materialized in my written and unwritten desires.

I never have gone from the place I loved you.

I feel you in my head, shoulders, knees, and toes.

Would you like it to be true again, to call you back?

 ‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧

Ofenbach & Quarterhead (ft. Norma Jean Martine)

 │ Alice et moi