telltale, my pulse in my fingertips
buryable and shot with sienna shot
with bittersweet blush
giveaway widened eyes
eyebrows high before you can slow
them up, slow them cool
toes tapping typewriter time
tossing rhythm about, a plaything, the running cadence
of your breath, of your bloodbeat, of pavement underfoot
we can't see past the pathway bends
and I don't feel compelled to know
this time
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