Your skin sinks into my body as a burden, clandestine,

Irresistable clutter. Our secrecy that we malnourished,

Gallivanting cheerfully. The suggestive triangle cramps.

The guilt without its attractiveness, the more we built it with

Glue the less it would hold. A forlorn idea turned silent, to behold.

The archive of our failures. The lost adoration deteriorated in front

Of our very own eyes.

The_Awakening,_by_Solomon_Joseph_Solomon

“The Awakening” by Solomon Joseph Solomon (1860-1927)

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