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| I stopped counting endings when you left.
Until then hours chimed as mellow kill. Agonized, slow days were duly quartered. You ask about that clock and I start counting ours in lies, evasions, scars. How long until your voice is gone again? Aloft, crows call sixth sense from quiet blue, discard bone-heavy moments miles away, unnecessary feathers fall through clouds. Two moves ago I left that clock behind. Time is full-bodied sky but I swear - I hear phantom chimes when you call. |
| *image: Salvador Dali |