On the verge of myself, I know-oh
the depth of the feeling of sinking
another synonym to the symphony
a crescendo to an entity
that dictates in my head
a fact I am aware of so well
like renewed skin, wanting
your friend's apple, your sister's dream
you fail to achieve several things at once
because you cannot focus on two
story lines with the same intensity
one will fall like seeds in a crack
to sprout, later not now
later, you will say when the kisses muzzle
on your bare back
like water touching your scars
you can still feel where the knife went
even after the blood stopped, the skin bridged
the thought floods you like a wave
that was, central to the act
I pick up the book, read
it is not my first this week,
like you, not any close to first confession
of the rite you had called last before repeating yourself.
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