I’ve taken off my skin
to be with you,
all these ratty colors
dropped to the floor
there’s no reason for me
to move from here,
either you’ll like what you see
or you won’t
our time is dying in place,
sharp seconds are a slur
and each tick is a
humming decrescendo,
indecipherable
taken by the song
the low decaying of
the knell
(image from Michael Brunsfeld on flickr.com)
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