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19 April 2015

April 19: Song of Smoke

burning eyes and guilt
(even though everything is okay,
everything is okay tonight)
thankfully nobody can read
your fingers laced with smoke

today the sun was the lightest hue
a singular clear orb set against
a sky made only of clouds 
grey and smoke

everything is okay.
it isn't hopeless anymore.
fragments of a moving life
follow you like stains

sometimes when you hold
the cigarette between two
hesitant 
fingers, you forget that it's
you;

your eyes follow me in the dark
my days are sandcastles 
next to your seas.


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