| exchanges | ||
| Soma |
She greets me. I feel a lonely warmth on my cheek And she smiles. She checks my pockets For sins I committed or loves I found. I have nothing to offer But my uncertain hands. A failed bridge. Still she looks to me for Fulfillment. I avoid her eyes And point to the polluted sky. The moon waits in the darkening expanse As it steadily replaces the sun. An unfailing reminder Of terribly constant transience |
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