The days fall out those deep pockets of yours, one after the other
Soon you’ll need a new jacket with tougher skin
and seams no one has felt. Soon you’ll bring
the old books into your bed and sleep easy
but not alone. It must be July again.
This must be the part of the story where you
refuse to say how the bodies you’ve walked toward
continue walking in you. With soaked shoes
in a calm procession to reach your lips..
I’ll forever walk up and down the narrow streets of your heart
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