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Alice Wilde May 7
Colours mean less to me than
The racing winds of autumn.

But to feel nothing
While dried leaves cascade
From trees that have more stories
Than me or any building
And crunch
Under my worn leather boots
While rich, muddled scent of earth
Pours into my being- filling me
Up with feeling that wraps
Around the heart- tingling
Chest and head
And hair tendrils

But to feel nothing...

Is to find that the
Winds of autumn are
Starting to fade
But even if for a moment I felt them
Even for a moment...
Is all I need to keep searching for them again.
Alice Wilde Apr 29
My thoughts
Paint brilliant colors,
Chemical venom
Swells my tongue
And silence
Fills my mouth.
Alice Wilde Sep 2019
Ferns for my soul
Echinaceas for my childhood
Is what I told my mother when
She cried looking at my arm
That I had so thoughtfully inked
Botanical permanence.
Alice Wilde Aug 2019
I’d like to

But my brain's response is sluggish
And the me you know is not
The me that I am...

Right now.
Alice Wilde Aug 2019
Ivory, sheer curtains
Breathe- sunlit with passing wind.
Delicately brushing eggshell plaster
Before falling to original shape.
Closing my eyes
I wrap myself in their peace.
Matching breath to theirs,
And it feels like
I am being held by your
Alice Wilde Jun 2019

Into sticky
Summer night.

The nape of my neck
Tickled by passing breath
Of flower scent.

Laughing with moon mother,
Was I mingling with constellations or

Surely I was dreaming.
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