One-hundred and Eight: Honey Moments

Looping around the green belly of a mountain, we sing about perfect days.
There’s a cloud in my lap but none in the sky, and poppies everywhere.
We play tag with cigarettes and eat cookies for both breakfast and lunch.
Our eyes crease in front of the satsuma sun, behind enormous sunglasses,
and we recognise the bubblegum soft explosion in our chests: honey moments.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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