Your fucking dimples

I want to pick the roses that blossom
from the intersecting veins on
the right side of your neck

your eyes match the color of the dust
that gathers between the stars

glee like white wine pours down my throat when I hear your voice, pools in my lungs

I can’t tell you how badly
I want to touch the tips of my fingers
to yours
how badly I want to count
every vein, every hair, every
wrinkle by your eyes from your smile

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