Wednesday, February 25, 2015

It comes in bits

It comes in bits in points and sheets, in
sounds and treats in creats and feats, with
the end of a charming baritone, with
the regular hum of your nasal tone, with
the decaying silence of the telephone, with
the memory of strength like a
stallion.
Old age and you are alone,
and teardrops always
weigh like a
stone.

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