funnels its edges, low range drifters I stumbled
over to the window quietly, as it was so cold
sweating and weeping for a moment for a
very sweet moment I pictured myself
in the dancing, satins and lace and you were there too
deposed platoon. Lost to all of this
buried and tuneless world routine, air collides
and that picture fastened back into its case recedes.
So take these hands, warm them. Light is here
and it's light that changes the atmosphere.
We go alone.
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