Bliss


Rivulets of colder climes run down the glass to tickle my fingers. I watch on twisting my arm this way and that as the sunset catches the glass with final bursts of summer. A sip, then I lick my lips. I see nothing beyond the colours running down my throat, taste nothing but memories. This is bliss. Right now. This is bliss.

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6 thoughts on “Bliss

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