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045

Written in

by

Breathing stars
to warm condensation on words
the way your hair threads wind
I’d fall for anything

we are a seasons dream
still like trees for snowfall
sedated and cold,
sleepy-eyed, alive

I’d stay out all night with you
until the brights go out
locked on last words,
the roses on our lips
we walk home on empty
alone.

 

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