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He belongs to her,
like a tongue to its mouth,
and the soft lips on her skull
seek him out,
as do the soft lips
on the bony mount.


He came this way
and forever changed the shape
of the ether in her rooms,
opened up the window
in the ceiling to her sky.


He held a cluster,
a loose cascade of rubies,
blue sapphires
and a solitary diamond
in his palm.


And while he spoke the words,
poem of his heart,
so she would know at last
with the forefront of her mind,
and cease forgetting,
he hung the gently sparkling stones
from every point in the space
wherein they stood.


Then he looked up,
silent, his smile trembling,
and watched her face
as she realised who he was,
what he had done.
For she belongs to him
like a mouth belongs
to its tongue.