The soft amber horizon
flutters faintly between night and light,
furling in the annealing morning.
Jagged thoughts lose fluency,
and hot grains of mistrust survive.
The smile bestowed only a silky veneer.
Pale hands grieve
as eyes photograph epitaphs.
Each sigh paints a picture.
Ambient tongues sleep in quiet mouths.
The smell of aged flowers
steals the afternoon away.
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