Huguenot Blood

A cherry taste, brief,
the shivers, my toes curled
when you spoke. You paused
with a screaming look, lost
your eyes took me to sea,
I was set and cast away.

Sailing will never be the same,
drunk on petite syrah, we are
French in a float. Cracked and
buttered, your skin blushed
from our journey. The heavens
burst burnt silhouettes, we split
the horizon, free.

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