she was
a rattle in the chest
of a sleeping child
and the red velvet
of a dress pressed neatly
below the knee
she was
a mosquito hum
in a mother’s ear
and the kneading
of skin on the ass
of a bold eyed temptress
she was the quiet
of warmth
and of muffled covers
and the slice of a blade
above his naked bones
she was the scene
through a window
with the darkness
in his breath
and the light that fell
across an empty floor
she was
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