March 16, 2017

Myths of the sea being round
The cracks on the walls
Trying to hide in this room
Lillies and evergreen
Through the nose
I am not trapped
Music is taking a nap while
Winter warms up at the pleats
Her hips encircling my body
I hear that certain clouds
Shrink time and that shores
Are never really that long
Except for her hair
And the sleep that drifted
From us so very long ago
Her spirit dreams in velvet
I dive into her rhythm
A wave stretched at the spine
The curtains hang motionless
Something golden blossoms
I am the silence
Calling out at the wash

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