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Jan 20
Like sparkling water, your breath punctuates every gulp—
Sharp and cold, I come back for more,
At your behest—like saffroned ice cubes on the eyelids.
A sober delight.

Scrubbing the grout in between the tiles with black salts,
Pale like drying sunscreen, piercing my palate with cedar—
Where did the subtlety go?
The Cosmos—Short Fiction
Written by
ranveer joshua  20/M/Toronto
(20/M/Toronto)   
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