In The Silence
In your silence I see colours,
speech crumbling like flaking paint, dried; truth dripping from lips, black spittle on a brush.
In the silence I inhale the scent of a feeling,
what you think of me curdles from willows to weeds; from ivy once intoxicated to rotten root.
In this silence I taste our time together,
a history in meat chopped / diced, fried in oil burning; our future an incomplete recipe, lost.
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