die (Remove filter)
shoulder the sky
atlas
echoes to the waters edge,
no fractured beauty in the
luminous lost in love.
from ridge
to crest
to flume,
the olive in my skin
flutters.
veins
rust,
ripple,
and glimmer.
this deadened
parcel
coppers.
dock your heart to mine
as we expire,
muted.
Saturday 24th August 2024 3:19 am
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