Ficly

an eggroll encased hotdog

it’s odd
we talk
about these things
and it fazes us
for naught

-

i dreamt:

i sat
upon your bed
my pants
around my knees

your finger
touched
my healing
wound

-

i grabbed your wrist
embraced it
brought your blood
unto my lips

and engulfed
your carpal tunnels
in a canopy of love

-

and then i
pressed my wrists
against yours

and the scars
stained me
instead

and you smiled
i held your hand
and then i died
enough deaths
for the two of us

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