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Updated on August 1, 2017

And so the metro slept
in a mooring, drunken beat.
Slowly, the lights went dead
as tiny cars sped past
the alley hiding us
from the eyes of the urban woods.

In dim glow
I cast your outline
and trace the sly patterns
your glassy polo buttons reflect.

One by one,
the buttons parted,
and left a limbo
no angel has ever sung of,
wide open.

But as you inched closer
your lips bridging mine,
you awoke from the trance we feasted
and parted away
together with the slumbering metro,
leaving me dreaming,
of what heaven kept laid and untouched
behind your polo and bulky khaki jeans.

© 2016 Longmire


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