sleep lies under these eyes
silken lies woven into lullabies
sung softly through the wind
the trees
sway softly
under her touch
she sheds her skin
under the fluorescent, dull grey sky
a wry,dry smile wraps in her white blanket
with a cold soft sensual breeze
a fresh reveal of pink
and she shows me more
and she knows me more
broken fractured touches
is all we are given
The Borg Poet 
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