We are a mystery
and somehow I know when he's longing
for my scent.
We are strangers
but he knows my routines.
Amidst the sounds of expresso machines
and sporadic sirens
He sneaks peeks of a pensive me
writing in a frenzy of madness
stringing adjectives and nouns
fusing scents of wild Atlantic waves
and Mexican hot chocolate
I'm blending hues of mango skin
and sunsets on paper
He touches me and
caresses my shoulders gently
with each soft sigh...
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