Crickets

In a faded building, secluded beneath dust,
crickets in bricks
died. They sang
like an ending covers the notes
though accidental, broken dreams
dropped from them lazily
like an internal dialogue holds back.
Never again they said,
like they had always
imagined our tendency
towards waves we say farewell
with a hello; we look despite
ourselves but build again; so whence a stroked
brush in rust colors over us
we seem spotted
with a lighter cement to live.

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