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Seasons change

Seasons change and I fumble my way after them.

Never on beat, never on time, always a second off pace.


I hesitate, stumble, run to catch up. Always at the nick of time, my timing is timed just right. Just enough.


Content with just enough.


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soft launch

Soft launch but not a slow start. Sure hands and a steady heart. I say your name in my head Make a space in your bed. You open the door to my heart Soft launch but not a slow start.

Sunsets and lovers.

Sunrises and covers. Sunsets and lovers. I wash the sheets to wash your smell out. I wish the day would erase more than just the night.

who is wounded?

We are nothing. Existence is grey. Words cover my mouth But you do not leave it. If I pluck a blade of glass who is wounded?

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