Empty photographs of days gone by, tears run dry
as the ache in our wrists prevent us from thinking too hard
about the ache in our hearts, creaking and cringing
soothes our future-fearing, past-paralyzing

Selves that haven’t come full circle with the present
tense in our reluctant movements, so as to not break the fractured
joints, resting, passively sitting, non-action speaking volumes
about the days gone by, blood run dry

Unfinished business, settled,
We didn’t ask why,


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