Tuesday, May 26, 2026

fit for the Louvre

and I start to think of you again

and it's as though you never left

since I found you this has been your home

the silence in the dark

heavy in my head

bringing blood to boil to blossom

new flowers

your scent

and the sounds of the moments between being different people apart

when we can sit or lie together

coiling limbs like ribbons

letting truth lie sleeping

hesitation

keeping dreams at bay

like the night before Christmas without bells and neon lights

a present we can't open yet

my favourite gift-wrapped marble vision

every breath fit for the Louvre.

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