she brushes my feet back and forth like
the hairs of a carpet.

kisses are falling
like forgotten scraps of paper
and unused train tickets;

and we build a world of
beads and green, lush
fields that we will sink through

you might fly.

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in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)