To address exquisiteness
or offer bittersweet affirmations
regarding our such delicate conditions, while
fervidly vomiting up loveleeches in milk
by shorthand for strangers,
because I don't feel like we're a family anymore,
and weave our breaths into harmonious chants
that fill up temples on golden hills
seems cheap and
somehow perfumed with sour grapes
All the things we do
we keep doing forever
allowing the past to keep haunting
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