promise

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a weight, a something
more finite than imagined
less than ever dreamed
in a nightmare a name
long forgotten moves slowly
though a starfield, blacking them
one by sparkling one
a shadow, silence echoing
into the valley, there are no mountains
only the hand through glass
the tiny pieces drawn from skin
and a blood I once read, so red
pulsing a promise, swirling in water
something finite, a weight
lighter, but still there
a voice destined to maim
the first time I heard
and foolishly listened