Last dance of the bee in the chilling autumn

Words slip out promising blood and lust
Naked lies wander into mouths
Taking residence in sleep murmured dry tongue dreams
Eyes dry heavy ponderous
Eyelids closing against bags packed for undetermined future
The only certainty is that I’ll be there to second guess each maneuver
So sure in the daylight on the road to another me
Until days wind down
One mask slips while another rises and whose to say which if any is real
Or is it only in transition where no expectation pulls that I am free to explore a self grown tired of racing from one hope to the next
Blurring time
Lost years
Reclamation tastes bitter when you find that what could be has passed by
And only what is remains

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