We are perfect lovers.
My last kiss of peaceful sleep
was after licking the whiskey off your lips
as your heart pulsated
like the true instrument of wanting.
The morning after
was sweet as ever.
This time not in your company.
Not feeling your weight shift the bed.
Not hearing the twilight dissolve
from beyond your door.
But highway sailing-
Singing to our lady interstate
windows down and celebrating
that your afterglow is as
sweet as your inferno
In the hours before sunrise.
You and I are one in the same.
As misfits of loves inventions
and trappings,
we are bound in our absence
of assumed roles
and poorly bartered words.
There are no promises here.
Only the logical certainty
that we will find each other again
and again
for centuries to come
and never really leave.
We are perfect lovers.
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