Transparent Magnolias

Rifling through a desk’s descendant,
I split my sides by heavenly pride,
And the contours of your face
Ingrained in memory.
Is here or last goodbye?

Intimacy nudges lust.
As the permutations of sin
Corrupt the Rubik’s.

And in three hours,
Is collapse.

The road spreads itself
Before our feet,
In the dirt are the echoes
Of many who have gone before us,

What is love,
But a prelude
To disease?

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