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SERGIO M. VACCARO
Writer // Director // Editor
Morning Love
My eyes glaze over with a layer of holy water
sweat produces on your forehead
like the beads on a shower curtain,
trickling down to where you and I meet
A car crashes somewhere in the sunlight
Your eyes roll back with the arch of your shoulders
And I float through glass meant to cut me
But my skin swallows the pieces whole
I travel through time I didn't know I had,
through realities I didn't know we built
as I breathe to the beat of the second hand
watching the world regain its balance
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