Into some lost iota of time
Our souls must have drifted.
While we were professing,
Our hearts must have drowned
In the profuse sweat of words.
We,though, carried our bodies forth,
Wrapping a fistful of upturned earth,
In each other’s skin, like a counterfeit souvenir.
Men, women, and myself
I’ve drawn and denuded,
To play to my mind
Our tale.
I see a crowd coming on to me.
You, must’ve passed by me.
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