Down on my bed, forced shadows form my universe.
I'm willing them back to my own reflection,
fifteen minutes after the mirror madness.
Thirty-five minutes in silence
this night we touched, quick to avoid
the energy itself.
Four days taunt me around the rubble
around the sky: a full moon mother's tears,
gold against the memory lost.
Nothing more, nothing less
than the laughter of satellites in my head,
closing even the world outside
just because I can't fool you.
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