We used to
trip over the edges of sunsets
landing at
the endless horizon of night,
but there is
no faith in the tangible.
you took my
hand to guide my tongue,
teaching me
the words you wanted.
Touching on
the silence of ruin.
the loose
trail of days left behind
dog the
present, fraying in the wind
as seasons
cross imaginary lines.
the twisted
roads of this river are filled with
deserted
footsteps. Phantom limbs
that still
find me
.
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