It drizzles and salts its way
into my eyes, time
burdened by too many minutes
of silence and wishes:
the waiting and letting go.
Night paints with its purple lips,
it sucks out my voice,
leaving only a slight pant,
the reminiscent sigh.
Before the heave into dark,
the garden of incantation,
before I dive into that noisy cave,
I need an exit:
your rope ladder of promise.
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