The Shedding of Skin
The Shedding of Skin.
Parched lullabies seem jarring,
gentle persuasion an assault,
quiet understanding reeking of decay,
fatigued under this skin in which I must stay.
Dreams of moulting,
shedding the hubris of crafty words,
flushing away all famished rhymes,
ripping the fibres of an ink-stained past.
Knowing.
Always knowing,
that honey-soaked kisses, seem destined,
breathlessly,
never to last.
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