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horatioaloneHe keeps his clothes on when we fuck—
boots, gloves, and epaulettes—
and sighs so sweetly when I touch
the medals on his chest.
We lie together hand in hand
beneath the falling snow.
A shadow glides above the trench:
the wingspan of a crow.
boots, gloves, and epaulettes—
and sighs so sweetly when I touch
the medals on his chest.
We lie together hand in hand
beneath the falling snow.
A shadow glides above the trench:
the wingspan of a crow.