10/19

October is the salt on your lips, still stinging from our last kiss

Brighter than the final flash of light before sunset.

Open arms – in retrospect
say little, demand respect.

Cast as Caesar, then as Antony
righteous/wicked, passionate/weary.

Adventure and enduring love
all rolled into one.

October is the honey on your fingertips – lingering for a moment before you lick them clean.

It’s the death of innocence, of coveting the pristine.

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