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
Gladly
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
