Sliding between doors,
removing an afternoon dress to slip on something new,
they forgive to bow
and bullets pass through.
Letters are falling down from the mantle,
who cares to catch
another sunset?
We require your discretion,
yes we do.
Just like mint leaves through your eyes
shut and wild and jailed underneath your
lashes.
Like a toy drifting into a video game,
they succumb to another play but,
we need your discretion,
yes we do,
yes
we do.
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