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By Boris Salvador Ingles

you’ve return again
clawing your memory
onto ash latent bones

your voice caught
in webbing limbs
of dead branches

your lingering smile
rustles through
fallen leaves

i taste your scent
alongside the mist

the sweet saccharine
i drank myself
silly on

only now
you are shaped
w/ memory
& tremor

& leaving you
in the nakedness of silence
has left me exposed
wallowing in mulch-mud

even now
in my smallest hour
w/dust gnawing my corpse

it is you
who has me
rotting away

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