~burdens
*
consider the shape
of a color
I can't remember
*
it was never a secret
how we overdosed
on growing snow
*
there is no
past tense
for wind
or the leaving
of your
shadow
*
I have already
forgotten
our silence
*
more each hour
small sufferings press
like breath to flute
mourning their
names
*
this poem is not
a mirror
yet
*
I want
the moon
to undress me
hold me
in an open vein
of darkness
*
the ink is wet
in my ribcage
in the muscle
behind my words
*
more often
I am nearer
the thunder
this storm inside
is poetry
lah 2.23.17 ©®
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