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Mania

I stare at your back, as if a portrait

hung to study. 
 
Bare, I stroke it where it is open as
 
you snore.
 
Touch freckles and moles with stealth. There,
 
I shut my eyes when you wake and sneeze,
 
I open them again when you fall back to sleep,
 
Watch as your lips gather the white
 
sticky dregs of the night,
 
I wish I could taste it.
 
...

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