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arcee Nov 2020
you, who parted
in trickles of silk,
your eyes shining
like a priceless gem
and i, hollowed—
an echoing shell,
a desert in my soul,
a shadow's farewell.
arcee Nov 2020
there are only two cases:

either something's wrong
with the world we live in,
or something's wrong
with me.
arcee Aug 2020
You were the sky, and I,
patches of green.

A lone seed long burrowed.
In flight, it quietly dreams.

Now the nights are long and
the months cold,

still I feel your warmth
in my damp home.
arcee Aug 2020
I think we'll make it far,
my lover.

I think we'll make it far,
but I admit in late evenings
or when grief runs to the bone,
my thoughts wander
to vast unknowns—

to walking along a shore
with no footsteps
except for mine;

to leaving the country
where I know no name
no number nor sign;

to acting on maybe's,
chasing the sun
setting on the sea;

to being free;

Still I do not linger.
We'll make it far, dear lover.
To be free is not to be alone
I fear nothing but losing a home.
arcee Jul 2020
the warmth of the tear
falling on my cheek
scattered light, wandering feet
a shadow in the empty street.

the rise of my chest
staring at the darkness
on my own, still i
feel like i'm home.
arcee Jul 2020
i sit on a bullet train.
trees, roads, houses,
zooming, blurring.
i don't know where to get off.

the doors open.
still i do not leave
my seat by the window,
waving them goodbye.
where do i get off?

am i running towards
the world
or away from it?

i close my eyes,
and wait for
the ride to end.
arcee Jul 2020
they tell you,
"you can be anything
you want."

but you wake up
each morning,
and the mirror
greets the same face.

and heavy you sleep,
tied down
to who you are.
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