Shaping Shadows

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I rinse you out
as candlewax,
dripping like
weeds from trees,
withering away
like aeging conversations
on the oak table,
where we were first born
as dying animal mouths.

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Polka Dotted

Shed the skin you wear
Its the bone that interests me
The hushed soul,
The vessel smuggled by the
cupped hand hourglass
with seconds entwined like
fingers of love,breathed by
the silence they inhabit
as the world screeches to
a halt at the undone sinews
of broken moments,
yet again.