A handful of blood
And a goodbye kiss,
Midday, September
And a warm though last summer breeze.

She puts hands on his cheeks,
Wind caresses their hair.
He has a ****** chin,
Farewell-full lips and her last glare.

His hands slip from a pat,
Sun ignites her curlstack.
She bears his last glance at
The ribbed jugate shields of her near-fluid back.