Hickie

Walking around campus, I wonder where they are.

Those dark stains left by the innocent, chaste lips

which timidly project themselves into conversations,

yet in the shadowy corners of morning hours

capture jugulars with teeth and tongue,

leaving inky gifts in shades of red, violet, brown.

The men must shyly hide these temptress tags,

left quiet when I shift form,

and fly away.

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