It sits in my eyes, as my mind sits in what was.
The residue.
That tantilising residue.
Formed from puddles of reflections,
- evaporated in your heated decision.
I am no longer allowed you, but I still lay myself bare.
I sit and bath in waning hopes.
They started as buildings.
Thousands of treasures encased in a concrete shell, to protect.
The blood running through copper, capillaries,
That are now slowly tarnishing,
From the thick, heavy mist.
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