Warm

One could only long
For the autumn
In a place where
persimmons remind me
Of their vacancy 
Outside the windows
of my confinement,
your willful gazes 
could only empty the ocean,
with you 
The long fascination of mystery
Mastery
I could only long the ghosts
Of lurking chairs around you
And crude remarks
Where your frown meets
The crack of a smile
where your moles are no longer seen
And I could no longer look
For what it was.

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