as we toss away

silk sweetly peels away
as worn skin, sleeves 
ripe meat, fruit's 
pink, lace slip

distracted fingers
tear newspaper
mine stories
to untimely
little
deaths

and We are 
lost...
conveniently
in habitual's ore

love's agony
dissipates 
on filthy
curbs

ash in the snow

we turn as stones
heavy and pragmatic
disassociating our Us
under layers of discard


is this good-bye?

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