9.

falling back 

 into wine-tinged daydreams,

my eyes graze 

 the arches of your body,

lingering

on the nape of 

your neck.

A hostile sea-breeze

pushes and pulls fruitlessly

at flimsy dresses.

Hands restless 

at my sides,

tongue and lips

 heavy .

The intoxicating early-morning light,

has me reaching out –

only to clasp at 

negative space.

Sunshine falls on dirty flesh,

ripe for dissection. 

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