Determining the Clockwork
Tonight I will bury my lover under a bed of clovers;
surfacing the soil with vines and leaves that spread from my hands.
And tomorrow I will savor the silence
as I taste each moment the sky settles into the horizon,
laughing as I groom each flower above your grave.
And I know now, love isn’t worth the breaks and marks.
So my impatience grew with the wait for sleep to take you -
the unclaimed voices seeping through once impenetrable walls.
My Dearest, slumber beckons below the shallow gravel
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