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       Even in the absence of fire,
       You march silently and faithfully to my bed.
       We wait out the nights with 
       Patient dew on our breaths.
       Tracing my fingers along your ribs, 
       I feel sleep come upon you with
       A heaviness I can never lift.
       I wait for the fall, for the whirlwind,
       To find myself caught in your net 
       Beyond all logic,
       For time to fall away and
       For there to be no more eyelids or elbows.
       But all is quiet between us
       All I see when I look at you
       Is still glass.