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i can't stop comparing
your thin arms to the tree branches haunting me outside my bedroom
the aloof night sky
painting itself into a summer's confession against
my frostbitten windowglass

the same one i gazed out into endless dandelion fields

what are we ?
wasting days without end, in our sleep
the scent of a burnt rose rising from a mountain peak

with your tree branch arms over my spring blossom tattoo.
a yellow bird peered in,
but only saw ivory waterfalls
of factorymade bedsheets,


i'm becoming the yellowbird,
exploring my tree home. your hair is my nest, afterall
home is where the heart is

"just a cream kiss, then"
to end the last touch on my watercolor brushstrokes
rosy fish swimming in tears

your porcelain hipbone
is my perfect canvas
to ink all the beauty of the world

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