I watched her for nights,
glowing. The overhead lights pretending to be her moon. Sometimes I lost her in the dark as I went chasing after her fingers dancing themselves to the beat of some other mystery. She told me It didn't turn out right, the colors and the shades. The channel broken somewhere along the way as she sipped her evening tea. Hardly able to read my own handwriting, I sat dumbfounded by what had manifested on the page. I had never seen something so beautiful, yet so broken, so miraculous Yet so human Where in this hauntingly disastrous world had she gone to bring back the sky that had been painted between the trees by a creator weeping in joy knowing that one day a daughter would wake and bring to life what could never be born.
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PoetryBecause all that science just gets old after a while. Archives
October 2019
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