The gentle kiss of the midnight sky
washes kindly over her dark skin.
In the tomorrow light, she tells me
life will look a lot less frightening.
But I am afraid I will not make it to
exist in the morning.
She sees my soul for what it's worth
beneath the bruised skin.
Her words are hardly words anymore.
They are warm and sweet:
a mother's touch on her pink tongue.
Everything she says to me in the darkness
of the night is like a secret voice speaking
straight out of my bones.
After she disappears out of the darkness and
into the burning sky, I can still feel her:
in my veins,
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