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chamomile flute Jan 2014
lipstick smudged in rotten cherry hue
the feelings when i know
you're getting better
bruised the sentences in my hand
hollowed summer hollowed air
why can't you be there.
chamomile flute Jan 2014
sometimes I write letters
and get lost in lines of black ants

sometimes I write letters
and blow out a fresh breath of meadow daisies.

sometimes I wonder
how will you read my letters
in silly wisp of smile
or bottle of stars twinkling in your eyes.

will you, will you?
chamomile flute Jan 2014
poppy haze coloured my hair
and I smeared a dash of heaven on my lips
blue flushed cheeks    green moss coat.
I'm ready for spring   I think.

— The End —