Pandora

the hours built you

cupids
throwing umbrellas from drunk cocktails
clutching hands softly, strolling Soho streets, opening time, sun beams bouncing between
us to a crescendo;
my bedroom door, your perfume, crazy hands scratching, our inhibitions a padlocked box...
Pandora

breath mingled your musty sweet heat
giggling,
for a moment we


belonged.


A.D. Hitchin

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