It lingers.
Not on the lips. Lower.
In the fiber of the tongue,
in the spasming depths of fear,
where words no longer light paths,
but only fester in ancestral silences,
like icons submerged in sacred rubble,
beneath the cracked beams of a church welded shut from within,
where even devils can no longer enter.
Parting is not spoken.
It is torn between teeth,
swallowed...
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