Light-winged phantoms escape from my lips,
Floating skyward. A mirage of chalky moonbeams.
And the nodes in my spine arise under waxen skin
Like a constellation line.
Smoke and bone.
I was the card of hearts torn asunder,
Your fallen gamble. A lost roulette.
Wine spills from my lips, a drop landing on my chest,
It appears you’ve gained a winning of my heart.
Hearts and wine.
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