by cain

>>justify, xray, distance, weblike, thread

distance made our bones grow weblike in their longing. if you xray my torso, you will see it:
the arc of i-miss-you that caresses my lungs.
the spindle of sadness that cradles my heart.

and the lambs I count in the afternoon dusk are cruelly dulled by the glint of my reflection on the window.
nothing really justifies this night, spread like curtains before me.
memories of you become beads on a thread wrapped around my wrist, enfolding my pulse in something ancient and intangible. 

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