Ecchymosis

Long neck down

I pour myself

around your outline

from the rippling of my own

Dark twists in vermillion

from the trace mark

unlacing itself

on your long neck, down

the fears I wrap around

the nocturne of your memory;

my self stung catharsis,

until the distance I walk in words

finds me

smaller

the further I walk

and I hurt to walk on

my mind, but I must

You see?

The ink stain on your neck

is not mine, but it bleeds

in me the lust to hide

eternal in the womb

I cannot live in

my mind’s shadow

emerging under the soft

lobe of your ear, teasing me

to be afraid of following you

in secret ambivalence

scattered like lapses

in the light of a penumbra,

down the long neck,

I have drawn out so long

In the accident of me

I will never see

the ink belongs to nobody

it is a silhouette

of loss

my loss

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