Untitled poem

A case of shades of you
set in a stuck in an attic
sitting and waiting and
dead before they knew it
Why did you let them touch?
Strained into stressed into patterns
and flattened, vaguer and thinner,
now only innards and gasps of a thing
How could you settle?
You were a king and a queen in a packet
only to be pocketed, slotted assorted and
bottled like rockets making too much racket
pin this pin was not your fault
light text your design is cleansed
for the dirty masses to ogle

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