Milky

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He was poppies that grow in between buildings,

Beautiful, unnoticed

His smile was soft as milky saps,

gravitated towards her like she was the sun he needed to thrive


His grip sometimes left patches of purples and blues

He convinced her they were beautiful like lilac wine


She looked at him with honey glazing in her eyes,

could never see he had sedated her with floral dreams


He held her in the palm of his hands,

closed his fingers until nectar flooded the concrete


He flowered next May by the river bank,

reached for one with daffodils for eyes

He smiled his milky smile and

leaned in for another bloom  

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