cup half–

the sky was undercast, the weather suddenly clement, couth birds chirped underhead and crows were so caring. trees, inrooted by ages threw down witness in standstill dressed their branches in nothing, eyes widely shut. some gainly adolescents shared a pipe of war, snowdrops looked on-white whilst the first shoots turned purple like the sun setting […]

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branching

do I grow in my sleep deeper into you, my end, my beginning? do my roots shoot right where you are, my earth and my minerals? does my night reflect your bright nuclear combustion? when I grow deeper roots into you, my beginning, my truth.

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