It’s Late and I’m Faded

How is it that none of the moments  
ever seem to contain enough juice?  
I was saying without thinking.  
For good measure, I’ll include  
winter’s violet fury  
so it looks like I’m caring.  
Often we can kill by caring,  
something nobody wants to own up to,  
yet quietly believes.  
If only all belief were quiet.  
Another moment follows this one  
with an empty stomach.  
You wouldn’t know  
just by looking in its eyes though,  
because the eyes show  
only adoration in all its lush  
and particolored grandeur.  
A grandeur by which we can also kill. 

-r. miller

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