aftermath

this room is silent, cold and ravaged
echoes of ragged breath and heartbeats savage.

bed stands alone, mahogany cage
sheets whipped to froth, a book with torn page–
silent theater, empty stage:
this room is silent, cold and ravaged.

now the actors whose piquant rage,
whose dart-words from quivers disengaged
sleep drained beneath the moon, that winking sage–
echoes of ragged breath and heartbeats savage.

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