pillowed touching noses

pillowed touching noses.

 soft stratosphere eyes, I tell her

“don’t ever Change”

flip calendars past Spain,

past numbered drunkenness,

past innumerable longings,

and look what life wrought us.

Change.

flip calendars past schisms,

past numbered guilt-laden sex,

past innumerable mind-fuckery,

and

suddenly

pillowed touching noses.

warm earthy eyes, I tell her

“Change. With me.”

She smiles.

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