Days of humidity’s sticky fingertips

Tracing dewy plans onto skin we’ll shed like the days clothes

Lifetimes left in the bed sheets

Remembrances of plans we never knew we were breaking

How enticing to pass our days on planes of white cotton

Concerned only with the proper way to hold each other

Heat from a city outside the window of our existence curls around our limbs

We’re cooled by soft breaths across all the places where lips met skin

Lightness becomes darkness becomes lightness again and we’re still

Effigies in alabaster

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