places of love: the secret whorls and veins in marble

Crimson dreams and tales fill her kohl drawn eyes;
he bends to her, to ether breath of light at the lip of dawn.

The bird sighs on a sultry afternoon, throat pulses, contracts,
gently heaves as he strokes where jaw angles into neck.

Marble breaks into whispers, exhales heat secreted in whorls and veins
of her body: sun dried grapes warm, succulent on his lips.

Leaf tumbles in silence, pale green going grey, then ashen like the moon;
swathes of ache knot her limbs, then, tug her heart.

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