no matter how many
times i give away my
blood, it does not
drain the melancholy
numb the heart
dilute the distance between
us, blood of my blood,
bone of your bone –

they are pinching
the tube, extracting
the needle, icing
the collection bag –

you are already
so cold, long buried
in dreams, i place
a hand over my
right arm, apply
pressure to the
wound, our hearts are
orchestrating beats
.
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y