we tilt away from the sun
feeling something new in
our bones, something expectant
like the lives of the young. but
feeling something new in
our bones, something expectant
like the lives of the young. but
today will not be the day. desire
moves through fickle minds,
fingers and bodies, its objects
slipping into uncanny shapes,
terrestrial shadows. pulsing and
not yet lost.
not yet lost.
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