Vanilla flight

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There is vanilla on the nightstand

In the form of cough syrup

And all in my hair,

Your fingers shroud my eyelids

And my tears lull me to sleep,

I can feel your heavy breathing

Awakening birds and clouds across the sky.

I can feel your arms and the

Beating of blood

Through your fingers,

Birds on birds on birds

In the sky trying to fly south with their snapped wings,

Beating and beating and gone.

It tastes like nutmeg,

The clouds swirl around coffee cups

With your lips pressed to them

And I can still taste all the wind

On the back of your neck.

You have warmth in your eyes

And I melt into your arms and

You take me just the way I am.

I can still feel your head on my shoulder

Dotted the way little children giggle in their seats

And my fingers are crumbling round yours like

Burnt sugar

And I wish you were here to kiss the sweetness sweetless away

To stop the curdling of blood in my nose

Like butter cooled too quickly

Closing my throat

I wish you were here so things were less bittersweet

and I wish you were here so that

Maybe you could taste the pain

Of my chapped lips,

Craving you once again,

The bittersweet man