Dog-Eared, Dog-Tired

As venerated step, as pushed feet, you

Made me do it, you guided me

So well,

Even on a dirty-cloud day, we

Saw each other sway

By the winds pressed up against us

With chapped lips, red skin,

I hung on—dog-eared,

Dog-tired—

Worshipped like attire of

Open book; we read each other lines,

We staged our ruin, our final act—

Broke each other

The sad news.

 

I’ve known too well—a bit worn and

Left under bed; I kissed linen

Of your back,

Up your covers,

Gathered you close

To my face, inhaled your traces and

Took them along with me—

Wherever

I might go,

Matters not,

Gathered up and tossed

In the cold; I kissed the linen back—

Soft, damp drops, a pierce-able veil—

A left mouth begging air,

Sopping wet, worn-out,

With newly bent pages;

A wish placed in your hand

To smooth out the creases—; before,

Soon enough, our book is lost forever.

 

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