Slenderman sight, just behind my eyelids,

As the tuba player is gasping for silence.

Your eyes find me wanting

Into the small details of my skin

Pliant under the familiar green.

I could guard myself as a secret

And invent one more alphabet of runes

To decipher the obvious.

Yet, you’d need less of a key, barely a touch

To unmask all purposeness.

Into beat blue shards of autumn,

Our early summer is late.

8 thoughts on “Undone

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