Purple, Green, & Silver Marmalades


The sweetness of her soul,
Thick raw juice melting on the moist surface of her tongue.
She wore it like a clutch purse.
Her nectarine laying besides me.
Happiness pressed on the corner of her lips.
She can’t hide it, she says it’s indescribable as if sweetness doesn’t accidentally fall from the grace of God.
The lips behind it tells no secret,
I’ve tasted them glossed in their slippery fullness.
I don’t know if she’ll return back to me
I don’t know if anyone ever will.
I start to wonder if her gentle kisses on my temple were real.
Memories knocked on the stained window panel above,
If I open them, will you be on the other side?

-Tuka

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