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i don't know you,
you slip down a street,
peruse a café window
looking for something
to eat, the inner
stirrings of your soul
a mystery to me & it's
funny because with time
I could love you, but as
of now you are like
any other undiscovered
book sat on a shelf
collecting dust, i blink
& you're gone, my
favourite read lost in a
sea of bodies; millions
of stories bleeding down
streets that i will never
meet.
silted clouds
upon thick breath air
signal

the cackle of a
green woodpecker

gentle pulse
of earthen bells

her
glass fingers
bestow heaven

unto

a rain flower
washed
anew
Who are we to say
that a love is not to be?
That a love does not belong
and can never be set free?

Who are we to think
that a kind is not our people?
That a kind is far beneath us
and will never be as equal?

Who are we to feel
that a face can look unusual?
That a face must be a canvas
and be painted to be beautiful?

Who are we to judge?
To say love is prohibited?
To think below of others?  
To feel minds can be limited?

©
if only i had but three wishes,
for i would give up a million of them
to see you be truly and utterly happy for a day
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