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May 2015
No. 1

there is a pane of glass
which now occupies the air between us

an indifferent arrow has flown through it
leaving a web of cracks

for which I am trapped
reaching for you

No. 2

the light you bend reaches across room
the same distance travels your voice

it makes me a ghost not to touch you with all that I am
exhaling wanting in your direction

as stars are brought down over head
by the weight of unfulfilled wishes

No. 3

victim to a whisper
pious to an echo

tomorrow I'll be swallowed
I didn't even need a name

lost and unwanted things are entitled
to each other so long as they don't hide

no. 4

it's an open hand
it's a broken window

it's a perpetually naive sky
it's off beat but we're out of line

and I'm waiting for you
one hundred percent of the time

no. 5

out of context
misshapened in parallax

past my expiration date
but you looked at me in a way that dared both of us to exist

when all this is dust
the loudest we'll ever get to be is a secret
"It was not my intention to make such a production of the emptiness between us." - Buddy Wakefield, Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars
Meteo
Written by
Meteo
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