we've been sifting through the blues so long
my fingertips forget your name.
no cup of coffee
no mug of tea
will ever warm these hands. i need to
press them up against your chest
feel your heart beat hot and slow
every statue in this town
is a memory of someone dead and gone
every street, a way back
to a home that you burned down
watch your breath dissolve
as you walk and exhale
looking for a place to rest a while
your hands are cold
blue around the crescents of your nails
you've lost your touch
and when you warm up
it's going to hurt like hell.
so lets go slow. but
lets start now.
tomorrow's going to happen
anyhow.
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