entirely displeasing
but the light falls on you,
spills onto you, in a way
that exposes/exploits you as
monochromatic -
your skin is a void, stretched
neatly over your insides
I watch you move as I curl
in the darkness, the heavy blue corner punctuated with fabric.
you - always in middle of window and door
so the streetlight's simple sheen
drips all over you
you put your right hand, palm down,
next to my left shoulder.
your eyes are postage stamps.
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