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Edge of Darkness
we lay on the stained rug of
our boxcar life
and spark matches just to
watch them burn out,
because there is something beautiful
in the way the light dies.
our breath doesn't falter,
but i know that when we sit idle-handed
with sunset eyes and moonlight hair,
we live in the instant
before the flame extinguishes,
the final inhale on
the edge of darkness.

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