The Source

Constriction: once, I thought
we could feel the coming wave.

He said he wouldn’t move
an ounce, but now we’re

where we started, with the same
time as a beer can–No gold

in his shine, just a few rays
tinted the hue of robbery

in silk. If I waited, I couldn’t
forgive myself, but I’ve rushed

and now to offer it to him…
Dressed in white with the same

glow as a riptide, I can’t forgive
myself, but I’m not giving up just yet…

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