Crisp air pulls across chrysanthemum curls,
a glance, a brace against a rusted streetlight, smoke swirls
from plush lips, she is everything but what she is not.
Aqua moon sinks low into the mosaic Bay, night bleeding
into the fog to press against silky skin, wet and glistening.
A hint of liquor lingers on breath, a steady indulgence of
downers to saturate the ache.
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