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My Shadow’s Path

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With the weight of the unsaid
tracing fractures of the glass
into the well of frozen ink

stepping into your obsidian 
where the quiet is breathless
listening to the splinter

crossing my shadow’s path
bringing to your widow’s chest
no lantern to guide us

into the dark we know by heart
to watch over our madness
passing through our fingers

until we become a pulse
echoing in frozen ink 
a rhythm of splinter.

 

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