The mosquito

We would live in this mosquito
That buzzed on a small stillness
In the larger stillness of a room.

We partook its buzz on stillness
Our blood carried ,on our bones
As smudges on walls of a room.

The room carried us, in stillness
And in mosquito buzz about us,
Little deaths of both our bodies.

Our body would die a mosquito
A little life on wall ,a red smear,
A smudge on its white stillness.

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