You Cannot Fix A Faded Polaroid

June does have a sweet stench about it 
Months have past and still 
Time stood still 
I have no use for all this light 
These skies of blue 
Blues instead of greys 
Colors are for the living, after all 
We, the dead, are stagnant in our struggle 
All it takes is one breathe 
One twitch of a muscle, I know this 
Still, it cannot bother me 
I am far too busy clinging 
To this clump of clay 


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