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I exist as a mirror
Wild lights have glazed over your skin
My whispers are tarnished
Our bodies a shield
Against the coming chills of a brittle wind

I linger with a breeze-like touch,
It comes out hoarse and swollen.
Thoughts  uttered with a breath of regret
Or a sigh of relief.

Your face turns foreign, a mesh of dark warmth
A light without the sun.
We’re all a wounded red
on the inside.
 Nov 2014 stefanie cortez
Janor
Some moments are not to be captured
not in a photo
not in a story
not anywhere
Some moments should only live in a memory

— The End —