beauty and bushmills

i rubbed your belly as you sat
amidst your blushing and bit lip of reluctance
that must have tasted like
black elderberries and sweet milk
thinking that each glide
would translate to the speech of stars
so that i can see
the full breadth of beauty
you’ve hidden
in the sharp odor of whisky and jasmine
the hint of which
hums along with your laugh

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