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Pristine
by
Suzanne Sunshower
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From the Lonely Cold
The candle sinks low.
A wine glass, tipped
spreads a cherry stain along the table.
A blue whisper of incense encircles us
as we sprawl,
full of strength and spirit,
wine and wisdom,
across the floor.
Fingers touching slightly,
we shimmer in our ethereal silence,
and I drape myself over your belly
like a fine silk scarf.