The Dead Sea

I run my fingers across my lips
and wonder where the days go,
if I’ve been neutered in secret.

This is how lost love ages you:
takes out the entrails of every
bright-spun dream, left gasping
on the sunbleached pier of life,
shining scales subdued by time.
Even the water cannot revive me
once I am lost to the eternal waves.

I run my fingers across my lips
and wonder where the days go.
You hold them all in your hand,
and I scuttle darkly, in disgrace.

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