i want raw vivid blood red of wild raspberries
grown far away from a road 
tumbled in my two hands 
i want bus stops that look like strawberries with the windows that smell like vanilla, orchids at home, and a cigarette
and little red houses with ceramic bowls for my keys 
i want to lie next to the beautiful buzzcut boy with the silver crescent moon through one left nostril 
with bass pedals like lead in his bones and the screaming aching love banging out our ribs like steel bars 
until my hands smell like his hands and my hair smells like his hair 
until flowers grow between our organs 
and i want to lie next to him until our fingers intertwine and plait together into the roots of an oak tree

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