Light burns deadpan sky, yesterday’s sun evaporates.


Bells sing always for someone; you lie there almost dead

face sculpted from pain. Returning : but I have no flowers.


I dream of sea worlds, saliva, messages. Today holds no hostages.


Every moment perfect to itself,  we exist in the shadows of memory

along a corridor of recognition.


I am full of you, empty of you. When you leave I return to myself


a stranger .

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