Your heart lit up in blossoms
A plum tree’s bark
Funneling rain
Water to its roots
Your fig lips
Almond eyes
Your persimmon thighs
The body both student and teacher
Wisdom’s carnage
Scented with cinnamon
Carved by youth’s eviscerating scimitar
Romance does not belong
To the sea
Romance is what happens
When we cease to be
The split seeds of a pomegranate
Love an opiate breeze
Carrying the scent of apricots
Into the strewn sheets
Of delight
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