She aside I

Buckfast to the bones of our boisterous being

We, not me

When we tripped the night, took to the light all kinds of fantastical


With her slender and tamed arm inscribed by mine

Sent to seek to find out about my darkest deepest secrets of which

To stitch on in and pour akin to this prioritised bottle of smiling ours

Floored by a simple sip suited to your jovial, lip-tilted everything

Soon as saints became singing, simmered sinners