Know nothing if not my spirit, fading. In the thick of smoke. Our sanity on

edge. My lips cut open like a wound feeble and deflated, along the wake of dissipated knots begging yours I bled. but

no longer. an intangible

twine,

 

P   lucked out of my chest.

S   weet talking violin strings where

 

there was only silence

that reverse and start

in our deathbed.

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