Your fingers had the scent of dragonfruit, 

Your hand lazed upon my cheek, 

A memory of lunch together, lingering. 

That day at the shore, 

Our chairs dug into the sand, 

The salt was still wet on our skin, 

And the children danced and jumped over the surf. 

Just the thing, 

A lick from the mouth of the day, 

A spooling vat of saliva,

Something slithering and nostalgiac, 

With the scent of dragonfruit still on its tongue. 


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