December Jazz Peyton Bigora
Velvet growls The smoky room dazzles of Saxophone blues Mulled wine stained lips, I lean into Peppermint and clove Your whispers pass through me like Flickering ash Muted neon sways Dust rolls in clouding our boots Raveled in one booth Scarves and hats heaped Tipsy laughs High empty heads Hearts melded so sweetly With honey Let’s pour another
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