bending close with the candle and mirror I
can see my work in the glow of her skin and
beeswax. in the dark hours of the evening I
carve out my name in ink and pen nib, black and

creation is in the small hours and darling I
can read my work in the glow of your skin and
candle. in the grey fog hours of the morning I
can trace the calligraphy of our honeyed skin and
the quivers of your breath.

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