(translates to love letter - sweet note in literal 17th century french :))
billet doux
for me for me for me.
love letters
and promises and
hearts scrawled on my hand.
sweet kisses
on stained hands
from me now
to me then,
in the
moonlight of my room.
the sun wakes
earlier now,
knocking on my window
and pulling
me out of
my warmed sheets.
my skin is warm too,
basked
for the night in
starlight and bruised
from the strength
of my love.
there is some degree of
comfort knowing
i could be better.
some degree of
comf
ort
knowing myself
and knowing my
flawless flaws.
and i wake to find
every morning,
billet doux under
my pillow.
under my pillow
and in my eyelashes
and in my hands
and tangled in my hair
and burned behind my eyes.
everywhere i turn
i see the same, beautiful,
agonising,
burning,
image of
lace and love.
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