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the vestige of bill

every shade of you; honey
maudlin old yellow,
was a trick
not to be perceived as naive
or selfish
when it was.
and cruelty
i think,
was the colour of a strange kiss
lurking under milk-teeth
into this fading portrait
of you and me,
leaning into sun-warmed backs
of fenceposts.
little changed overnight;
it took years to discard all those party dresses,
to tell the trees to stop having
so much fun,
to leave you leafless in the arms
of a younger,
more urgent ruin,
crying behind some windowsill.
everyone in tears
crumpled by the fire;
the clock with a blood red colon
ticking into old—
i looked down at you one last time
cradled at my bosom—
you looked distant,

26 Jul 13

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huey dewy, when you coming back to the nort? thanks for faving you big suckhole. :)
 — jenakajoffer

I'm commenting on this for myself because i'll leave the site again and return and reread stuff and i want myself to know this. "vestige" was supposed to be my last bill poem.  i look at the date and see how much time has passed and wonder how he's still alive.  but he is and he's coming back for a visit. it's january 2016.
 — jenakajoffer

notice the clock now. and ruin like it is everything that was hanging on to me.
 — DeformedLion