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left of this

but for moments
left a lifetime –
markers linger
from the fall
whispered thunder
rolling canvas
– white the page
beneath the squall

living words
I have no language
but for taste – what tongue shall know
where I passed
(or where I lingered)
long before
my letting go

threads to bare
as guilded treasure –
write your name upon my heart
promise still of everafter
one more kiss
before we start

. . .