this bleeding edge
a slight momentary discomfort
the clocks' slow hand
leaves traces in my eyes despite it's speed
pins in water glide across modulations
like a ghost
who only watches ripples fade away and sighs
this healing state
the scabs i will myself not to rip
sharp broken sleep
mistakes of routine sex and we're out of our love
pins in slush drone like a slowing heartbeat
tearing time
leaving linear moments orphaned and blurred
new december
frost in it's wind thickens my armor
pins in ice locked dormant under heavy white
their pointed edge
now only just an empty threat that's snapped in half

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