parasite/8

by poems & doodles

i wouldn’t mind
falling asleep
in those
smooth-carved
crescents,
those
purple-bruised
hammocks
nestled tight
beneath your
clouded eyes.

and don’t worry –
when your breath
catches
in your throat
(that telltale clap of thunder,
        your personal preface to every downpour)
i’ll cover my face and tell you again,

i’ve never minded the rain.

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