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Arc For A Different Journey

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Midnight.


shadows curl

inside my veins

wrapping me

in a veil

through which

I can see


see.


I was wrong.

Midnight.


the nails

hammered

into the coffin


were done so

by the fingers

now being dragged

across them.




my fingers.


my coffin.


my mistake.


Midnight.


the birds

don't speak

at an hour

like this

about things

like these.


and neither

do we.


no contact.

no service.



signal dead

on arrival.

Midnight.


the universe

weeps with

those awake

with things

to be awake about.


the promise

of a dawn

is still just

a theory.

Midnight.


the coffin

I built

like an arc

for a different

journey


sits

silent.

patient.

final:



Death

is just


a concept

until

you meet


His chauffeur.

Midnight.


I let

the memories

slip away

and release

back

the emotions

that once

held me

captivated.

or


captive.


The heart

entrusted

to me

fits perfectly

inside

a new chest


inside the coffin

I built

like an arc

for a different

journey.


Midnight.



lowering

the lid


I let one

final breath

escape

as the hinges

repose in

perfect form.


the settling

of things

that once were

but are

no longer

ebbs


to a


perfect

silent

symphony





I close

my eyes.






I close

the lid.




and I walk away into the Midnight...





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