If they dig through the silt of your silence, will they decode the crescent hidden in your skin?
Your thumb has a tiny crescent moon of dirt under the nail. I watch it while you sleep, wondering if someone centuries from now will care that I stared.
A reading from Psalms 119:25
DALETH. My soul cleaveth unto the dust: Quicken thou me according to thy word.
— Psalms 119:25 (en_asv)
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