The Paraclete and the Dove

Ashes to ever. I stain the sheets
with you. Almond eyes that you
bring to the shadows lighten our efforts.
We join, taxing the reserve
that luxuriates our limbs.

Afterwords the dryness is gone.
The rumpled mess created is pillaged
time well spent. The air singes
my brow and wisps at the papers discarded
on the table, chairs, whatevers, cares.

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