It’s bleeding
already
the short testimony of annual rings
palms are no longer searching for each other when making love
with dusk the honey bees flew away and
the cigarette went out on the lips
mute even for a kiss
you cut where tomorrow branches
until there is even no trunk left
I say the wood is nothing but knots
good for kindling, at most
you went a long way in silence with the bundle
to give light to a new fire
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