Guilty pleasures, justified.
She finds comfort in my
shoulder shrug lullabies.
Wait for the drop.
Heads and beats fall
until they hang on knees,
three stories at least.
Her little pretty pleases
hesitate, almost to a flaw.
Finds common sense trifling
as she pries trepid jaw off
my devastated floor.
Words don’t dare trek
toward my morbid eligibility.
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