dying afternoon
its not as if im tired
of you
but you have been standing
there
cast against the dying afternoon
and your shadow
has always been
eclipsing
my own
and your voice
and your words
bumping and flowing
with the coming and fading
of car tires and moaning engines
feels like
the sad voice of church bells
tolling
for a prayer
and i pray
though to no god
p.s.
(finish this later)
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