Somethingelse about defence

between our bodies is too much weather
and a diluted trace of earthy scents and
                                liquorice at dusk
for the rain to end our days with a task of taste 
to veil the road where fairies hide
                                when morning breaks

it takes him no longer but a broken minute
passing the scents of tomorrow's stories 
searching his pockets patching his past with a
borrowed drunkenness from the ocean

                              salt meets my shore

and I encounter his weakness defenceless
to the effect of time and cause of change
where the soil is still warm when day comes
to closure
                             only resting in my hand
sensing near is coming closer for every lonesome
sailor lost at see of unknown water seeking
land in his reflection
                           barefoot crossing border
                        with my heart as only weapon


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