The muslin twilight spreads over skin
And reawakens in pores
Some memories of falls
Blurred and worn
But fragrant with nicotine and sandalwood soap
That plays on the breeze some sonata on flute
Which chimes with the rhythm of your touch
And lulls my whole city to a sleep.
Till screams of headlines on channels intrude
And dash us into earth as we drown.
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