‘THE LAST IMPRINT’ BY JAMES COCKYANE. No particular theme.

Your heat peers through the cracks
in the blinds of my rib cage; with the heart blinking into life
bleary eyed, but living.
The beauty lies in its passing –
And turning over under duvets of
dreams, the moment is cast into the well of my mind,
where beads of light glow
beneath silt and stone.
Closing my eyes again, i feel our bodies mold to one another,
and I forget my form
and welcome yours.
There might be a time where our hearts, so full, forget our absence,
or the texture of our memory is washed to smoothness
but if I were to die now,
The last imprint I would leave
In the darkness, would be a smile.

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