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Matthea Brown Jan 2011
Out
I have gone out, a cold candle.
Dancing, darting, flickering radiance,
flighty shadows fade back into the night,
but their memory is still on these walls
if you reach out and
touch them.  

I have felt the inhale before the exhale, but
neither as strongly as the pause in between.
Filled with more potential than any dream you’ve ever had,
yet somehow ending the same. Always.

I have surrendered to your breath;
darkness falls.

— The End —