Sat in eerie silence, the kind that suspends, borrowing grief from the future. Reaching through with sticky hands, to steal something I can call mine. In the same way, a sweet friend took the floor
I stand before you, farmers kin, my mother’s green thumbed girl. asking only, for a gentle kiss to cheek. I’d fly to you– by wing or wind, simply for a glimpse. I have nothing to offer but the dir
You ask if I am happy to see you Well, is it me that asks or you? I cocoon myself underneath you and plead Yes, yes, I have missed you, I am joyous. You are not so sure. Your mouth manoeuvres an upt
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