My lighter thumb-motored
Igniting hosts a sun
Molten ichor fire moving like a liar’s eyes
Wrote entire poems in singeing diction.
She cringed at any friction;
Ephemeral, unknowable picture.
Above the lip
The rosehip elixir fit to spill spits
Her lips were apples
Made to sample pills and saddle quillers
With saddening visions
Of must-stay fiction kisses.
Alchemisland 
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