Soft, silver rays through
a moonlit shutter,
a dream with a needle
stuck in vinyl fissures.

A broken bubble
refuses to burst,
a human wick,
a fading flame
of emerald eyes.
I wait with baited,
dancing arms of gold.

The familiar flutter
of your wings,
whispering
their words,
hiding in the
scraps and weeds,
an angel's lament among
the unfathomable
silence of things.

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