I found a photo of us,
eight years old,
stored in my ‘sent messages.’
We’re sat at Tokyo
smoking a cigarillo,
looking utterly chuffed with ourselves.
I thought I had destroyed all
evidence
of the Archer and the
Scorpion union.
Goddamn, darling, we made a
fucking stunning
couple when we
stepped out dressed in gangster black,
and with a dirty
day drink buzz-on.
But we were
stunninger
in the dark,
when you worshiped
at Church of Me;
your platform bed served well
as altar.
2 a.m. moon soaked Liturgy,
my sweet heathen,
you were no atheist
sheathed in my silk.
© 2019 Kindra M. Austin/All the Beginnings of Everything
I keep finding shadows of myself in odd places….
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