If you and I cannot speak
to one another's souls,
nothing is lost; the fault of time
is permitted. But the rift it opened:
completely faded afterworlds,
incubators broken in long rows,
the weather planned down
to a glint on the pillow.
to one another's souls,
nothing is lost; the fault of time
is permitted. But the rift it opened:
completely faded afterworlds,
incubators broken in long rows,
the weather planned down
to a glint on the pillow.
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