Covet Of The Morning Star
lit with cigarettes and neon
we edged ourselves closer
to the end of our stools
to the end of our drinks
to the end of each other
vodka tasted like heartbreak
bitter and familiar on the tongue
something we were both used to
her eyes ciphered cryptic messages
as if she was summoning fallen angels
and sure enough
i fell from grace
into her devilish caress
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