Losers

Perspire.
Because your scent
Speaks of a mortal
And his words.
Two separate
Forms

One where mortality
Wreaks out
And spills
Over all the magic of the unknown.
And the other,
A secret perhaps?
A mirror somewhere
Deep down inside
Echoing
Sonnets through an
imprint it doesn’t recognize?

Tainted mortal.
Let it go.
Let it be.

I am not interested in
Breaking lose the vile.

There is a shattered
Mystery fallen right
At my thawing feet.
So intangible
That once was
Fell apart too soon.

I’m left a-stare.
Not warm enough to stretch my
Arms out in a breath
Not so unfamiliar
To walk away without
An unforgiving moan.

There had to be a revelation
I presumed
But perhaps I
Concluded too soon.

There are two visions.
And versions to this.
I hope the other
has patience.

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