in the

in the hazy shade of memory
you were covered in white light
a finger raised
as if to say
"all of our dirty laundry comes clean."

pointing at the sky
white and white blended into blue
your raised head was a signal to
do the same

"we all make our lives into this shade
stop wanting
and the light will come."

stop wanting.

i brushed it aside
licked the skin of my arm
(the part before the shoulder)
and tasted the last of you
before falling
into the sleep of day
(the last shade of night)

the curtains close
and a shoulder to bear
marks our remains

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