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Chamomile
Annabelle Norton
He placed his lips on hers,
she tasted like the
sweet stickiness of sleep.
The kiss deepened, and it filled
his mouth like a swallow
of chamomile tea with honey.
His tongue slid down to her throat,
drinking her in.
They laid in bed like a headache
in the head of a hangover.
He could feel the heaviness
of her bones, her body falling
into his as he held her.
His arm was around her
shoulder, the other gently
on her hip. He wanted to hold her
face in both of his hands and
tip her lips to his like a
teacup to the mouth.
Fall 2021
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