I smile foxlike, my fingers in your hair,
And I ask you impossible questions.
You were bent like the light; for no longer,
I have fallen to the depths looking for your star.
Floating down, I make my one cruel demand,
To have your memories before I die.
In wonder you find an awful whisper
And you tell me of how you fell in love.
I wonder how it could happen. You say,
“With your hands around my throat.” I find your lips.
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