time dilates
so funny in
your eyes,
spirals turned
to halos, and
spirals form
from fragments of glass.
sweet fingers´curves
against the glass
press to the core,
reach back,
and are in again,
churning and turning
in a whole revolution
a second.
It´s an ache and a dolor
so dipped in amor
the color is one and the same,
the odds are all against
but tip on the blink of an echo,
relate to one
and one in a fraction
equal to the sum.
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