Gray Too is the Heart

An absence of desire,
a decaying cadence,
swiftly withering to
the lips mouthing stanzas
in the post-fallout
depression.
Gray is the moment
that strains its blood
to accelerate
the wounded flight
of light toward
afternoon,
webbed in nefarious
clouds. And gray too
is the heart by which
that blood is strained.
-r. miller
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