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Unwrapping the Mint on the Pillow

We leaned against the railing of the balcony,
twelve stories above reality and tomorrow,
drinking dark wine the color of blood.
I touched your hand,
and a bolt of electricity
surged through our fingers.
I pulled your face to mine.
The sweet taste of the wine
mingled with the salty taste of your lips
in a perfect mix of desire
and intoxication.

There was no thought given
to the morning after,
and all fears faded
when the sun sank
below the horizon.
I didn't trust you,
love you,
or even know
your last name,
but I had no need
for such trivial details.
I just knew that for one sweet,
blissful night,
I would not have
to be alone.


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