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because i'll never be a poet

because the trees lose their leaves
every season but they grow back
(they grow back!)
& the maples are mocking me
by becoming more beautiful.
I want to rip them apart
with my teeth
because I can’t do anything
to make you okay
and the branches grow vibrant,
drop their lovely burdens
and regain them.
because we’re stuck together
right here
right now
but your illness is making my skin crawl
and shame curdles in my stomach
because the trees lose their leaves
every season and sometimes
(sometimes!)
they don’t grow back.



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