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eating love notes

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we will never get to reason with the moon.
realizing this, the night quieted
we breathed the bonfire ashes from the wet soot,
and our frames, like their own works of art, covered
branches, their leaves starting to cascade:
whispering, even trusting, the trees in our ears.
we ate, digesting our tongues aloud,
wondering if light could leap onto
a splattered page, and you wished out across
the painted sky. Stars celebrated;
faces up, we lay the darkness underneath.



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