Eventime 20/9

A play on words and I am made not a fool.
A play on me, however, and I am.

The rain drop on my lower lip is too nice,
too precise for me.

I stand beneath a sea of leaves and feel blown by a storm of words,
a tempest of things expressed.

Tonight I am covered in blood;
Full-bodiedly smeared.
Stepped in far enough.

All I want to do is sit in a pool of silence,
with you,
and your dark hood.

But being without you,
and without the pool
of silence gathered.
I don’t know
what to do.

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