Sunday, November 11, 2012


The hour is nigh
the silence after your leaving
has seeped into my bones
           and now, I am fading.
None is waiting in the vestibule,
the silence has now aged
so much so that it has perfumed.
This is not godless penury,
I am past that.
Nothing but a drawn out valediction
fashioned with masochistic zeal
by my anima to whom,
you shall remain, stand-alone.

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