The little sliver of a shining thought slipped
Away. Night has more time to be torn apart
When nights are longer. The little lights
Below, the great lights faint afar, punched holes.
Close your doors. Keep your cupboards warm.
That thought that might have been worth
Pickling in its own words escaped. Let it go.
Someone breathes on the borrowed sofa.
Something scores the mirrored window.
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