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The Still Before Spring.

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The soft wind runs amid my fingertips-
it pulls my face into it's kiss
and then retreats into the world-
I find the similar salt that sits on my tongue
I long for you.
In minutes that span to days and fold over into years
I am sitting in the same spot under the same sun,
Holding the same breathe you left me with.
I find it gets easier to remain dead.
and after a while
maybe I will decay into the sweet moisture of the earth
and remain here in the time where you loved me.
The time when opportunities were still unopened
like a spring bud- 

 

Comments (2)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Bee-utiful its been a while but this sounds more like the best you.

Vangoman
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Same old muses.. Thanks

Uniquely...Disfunctional
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