Gothic Strawberries

Syncopated cupcakes
fit my hand in counterpoint
to tobacco candy savored
by lachrymose lips.
Every shouldn’t
turns to should;
Dear God, you know I would.
Ignite the pilot light
– with Jameson –
in full spectrum touch;
tragedy frames our play,
but slows it down?
None such.
Supple succulents from the tree
hand to mouth in ecstacy
erotic melancholy
erupts in we.

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