Toffee Apples

Have you ever kissed
a best friend
in the bedsheets
of the early hours?

Tongues locked
sweet taste of
toffee apples in our mouths,
we are hog roasts
waiting.

Fingers twisted
sweet smell of
Parma Violets crushed,
we are high
on the need to know.

 

Your breaths
each different
to the last,
who?

 

We crawl in our own skins:
in         and      out of bomb shelters
in         and      out of               caskets
in         and      out of                           comfort.

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