The Morning Post
Friendless is the dawn
And as forgiving as a lover wronged
Her breath is cold as corpse fingers
Clutching those, our final letters
Every morning
I open the box to your dead lust eyes
Send me an empty page
And I will mark it with a single smudged truth
Though I prefer to type, it does not reveal me
Friendless is the dawn
And deceitful as a lover wronged
Her heart is cold as the naked sheet
The hatch slams shut
Until tomorrow
I do not touch the bills
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