The false readings of sun drenched skin
Not happy, but kissed again
Chapped lips and mental spares
Of what really brings him there.
Dark in, light out, only two move
Under A plush, print-less cover to
The mattress floor. Rocks,
Speckle and scatter, build a natural pour
No locked door could cease the flow
Of the smoky dew lit den.
The pictures by him, shopped and hung as
The camera rolls. Lips purse to capture the
Smell and graze the snap his walls expose.
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