Midnight Bend

Found with hand on wall
Mosey mind around the bend
Night has more in store

Black, white, or golden
The texture leaves one wanting
The tone leaves none turned

Watch my hand sliding
Face for ward at the limit
Heartbeats twice this space

What is death to me?
Question asked since state proclaimed
Even if unnamed

Even though unheard
Odd tone could become a word
Strange spark, signature

Indelible mark
Singe what we've been waiting for
An imperfection

Perfection an egg
Moment imperfect pristine
So what shimmers here?

Be ye out or in?
As I'm not in the habit
Of talking to walls

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