How many eyedrops
Of deception
Can be what leaves the mark
Upon the resurrecting spark?
We make the drama believable
What with every chain
That binds us.

To each scar
Birthed upon the abdomen,
For each faded pain
We thought had closed
Its connection,
To seal ourselves into turmoil
Lost upon
Veins in the frozen soil.

A lost hour
Engirdled in an unneeded,
Blanketing embrace.
The wielder shows their current,
Drawn from a well too heavy
For the earth.

While the marks
Were from a fallen spill,
While the sparks
Were from disused tension,
Left to fulfill,
Let the dust come gathering
At our feet.

Let the droplets
Wander off,
Bleed off,
With faces turned to the sun,
Finding another hope
For our feet to run.

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