interstate 45

on my lap laid your head, which
amassed an amount of sandy curls
as you turned to me and to my thighs.
restless as we were,
the two of us in the backseat at
ninety miles per hour,
i ran my fingers through your hair,
parting stems of sweet wildflowers
and feeling your twitching soften
to long breaths and a faint smile.

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Published by

c.v. grace

here lies my veins, tangled and suffocating.

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