You run through my body like thought.
Like a healer of the spirit working without reward
Or expectation
And leaves no marks under the skin.

Before you leave
Remember not to speak.
Guard your words with taciturnity
For this world is full of unfriendly ears

And tongues that can be your undoing,
Speaking ill of your will.
Healing from within, with hurt
And hurting without, but healing

One ripped to bleed by consequence
Lies loosely, hung out to dry
Like laundry between irony,
The underwear and oxymoron.

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