It's the pre-dawn slumber hour
We'll celebrate my immediate exhaustion
with twin trails of your champagne fingers.
Leaving warm and bubbly pathways underneath the skin of my bare back.
Cheers to us, our privilage.
Our silver knots and all.
I squint my eyes to face you
You blink back at me.
My eyes inhabit a red wine in the dark.
They'll be what steals your gold
and your bubbling heat.
They'll bring us to our drunken stupor
wherein truth
like that heat which spread on my back
is spilled from glass
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