My aim is you
门开了
No ring.
Yet,
a journey
in the scent of hair
and skin.
Like moonlight-
The other is the self.
The self is
not other
than perfect.
Beginning.
The day
Wrapped in cotton antique roses.
Arms crossed
Hand, left plastically
free.
Eyes closed. Saw him
cover me against cold
Several times
in the
Short night.
Longing for Shanghai.
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