Earth pulls up its collar as the sun sets
All things cooling, creak,
the most quiet is flesh.
Pouring life through the waist of leaded glass,
Countless grains two souls, in the talus
As fabrics glide, fiber and mesh
Warmth and velvet
The most soft is flesh
Peeling life, the mist from the rind
Freed and immortal, sprays silent and fine
Sweet nostalgia, upon palette, breaths
Fueled by scent
The most fragrant is flesh
A grape on a vine, in the rain, dew, and brine
Sea mist, on the vineyards, a portrait of time
My words are as fleeting, as love is endless
As lost as Latin
The most seen is flesh
You elude the patter, of fingers on keys
Uncloaking the letters shows a poets disease
Swirling in air, our winter breaths
Warmed by our mouths
The most tasted is flesh
Of all the senses, most fathomless
Least endeared,
You are my “now”
My forever
My flesh

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