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Summer Is the Sweetest Taste

Constellations plague the sky,
the flies in the summer,
honey in a jar.

With your thigh pressed to mine,
shoes smacking against each other,
making our eyes silently laugh,
I wonder why I didn’t do this before.

How can you remind me of snow days,
and red cheeks,
but also of hot nights,
and cool grass,
and of twisting stars?

The callus of your hand,
against mine,
is as desirable,
as our hands entwined.

I wish this were real,
and not pretend,
for some audience,
who we will never see again.

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