We lie inside a pocket-
a timeless, empty space-
dusk paints the windows
dark colors
in this place.
Feel dead skin against us;
cools our bodies in the dark.
Some things
have too much meaning
to mark.
So, some loves are too loud
to deliver through the mouth
(quiet thoughts escape our lips,
spread across the room;
coupled with recycled sounds,
make us
embrace our doom.)
Only, really, truly
just those few words matter now.
Repetition amplifies them
all the way
down.