Boots

Cozy under covers

Bar stools tipped over

Still tipsy

From the rug pulled out

From under us

No sweeping off feet

We both fell for it

The lights

In this small room

Look so elegant

Weeping over your skin

Translucent

Veins calling my lips

To the soft conundrum

Of pillowtalk

And clinking drinkware

In cheers

To the health

We are drinking away

Plenty vain

And basically

A balm

For base desires

The gateway drugs

To nirvana’s gate

Boots under the bedframe

Exquisite

Forgettable

Let’s check out

One last time

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.

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