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juno May 2017
The unsaid truth --
Deranged, and underage --
Can reveal itself,
Walk away.
Step away.
It need not your day.
Powerful it is,
Even when
Nothings being said
  May 2017 juno
m j g
we woke up together, enveloped in each other and your bedsheets, to the sound of soft wind chimes in your bedroom window and cars driving past your home. your room smells like your cologne and the laundry detergent my mother used when i was young. you lazily half moaned, half murmured, "good morning, love," and you, with your dazed condition and morning breath, found my lips and met them with yours. you pulled me in closer and ran your fingers gently through my messy, tangled hair, and i inhaled your scent so deeply i could feel it softly settle in the bottoms of my lungs. the morning sun shined through your bedroom window and the shadows of the trees outside danced in the wind along your baby blue bedroom walls. you ran the tips of your fingers gently in sporadic loops along my shoulder blade and spine. we lay there and took it all in, took each other in, our legs intertwined and my head against your chest. for these few minutes i found myself wishing we could live infinitely in these small, precious moments, the ones we take for granted, the ones we only remember when the big picture is gone. i snuggled closer into your arms and we drifted back to sleep, heartbeats synced and bedsheets entangled in our legs.
  May 2017 juno
Decorating my bedroom floor.
Lit candles
Flickering upon nightstands.
Our favorite gentle music
Dancing into my ears.
And you're there, too
Waiting upon bed sheets
Bidding me come.
And as passion befalls me
Cold, frigid water
Rushes down my naked skin.
The warm water exhausted
Brings me back
To sitting in the shower
I miss you, baby
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