how once i thought of you waiting for slim markings
that showed something called "fate," which we don't believe in -
how once you shared the creeping dire seams of your love
before me, what became of that boy (not a man) who
cried upon your shoulders too many times
how blood once made you weep but then became a sign
(which we also don't believe in) that everything was empty
how the rapture of our bodies form a thinking
that keeps this one somehow awake after hours
of crashing and waining that leaves his eyes strained
how with some soft kisses you eased my breathing
and my eyes could somehow softly still fall asleep
i thought we told this story before
and the ending was so pleasant then -
let us only pray now,
but we don't believe in prayer, either
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