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Ardor et glaudium

I flow inside you
as your own blood.

Yielding back to this authentic state of stand
as I reminisce,
kermes edges of the fingers
they almost glow
over the phosphatide eolienne.

A body ebbs,
down the stairs of my house
now getting tart as the floor.

Terrene nights
squashing the same sheet;
crackling constellations,
I did promise that I'd capture Canis Minor
for you.

As loyal
as abiding,
then quench its hunger
with my cortex.

As static
as gentle,
I will blear till it's all arid
and washed out.