31 December, 2016


There, where the spilled dreams
teach me

I am distracted by comfort and defiance
My own recollections,
misshapen halfpillows
but they are where I rest
as I lay on sand at high noon
being cooked alive by stars

I believe it to be true
that falling in love is a mockery
of death

Revolution is never without blood
and pride is still an armor

There, where the spilled aches
of my heart spoil my dreams

I ask
When will it be sufficient
to show ourselves to one another

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