let us pretend

that this is over
final words are exactly that
- final

sex and skin are licked
once more and then
- not again

a light turns off in time to catch a shoulder
exiting the door

the hollow night
mirrors the moon into rings
that stain memory, through glass eyes,
rings that stay just long enough
at the bottom
to stain a cup
with the leaves
and water
that same shoulder
once helped
to pour

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