power lines cut across to the window one

shoe up, show down

don’t know who it belonged to maybe they

are still around wearing

the other one when at

home with

thick socks.



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I adore how mischief

tugs at your lips,

playing them for

a guarded smile.

Pulls at your cheeks

sinking forever into,

the folds upon

your stubbled chin.

Dimples rise up

creating the illusion that,

your cheekbones

have dissolved.

Arched ’bout your face

the fingers of mischief,

purposefully tease your

stubborn visage.