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Harry Jul 31
In season
our steps spring through youth
lie waste to untold truths
hiding beneath the surface
in season
we grow with untold bounds
life starts from underground
and bursts into a melancholic circus
this is a dance
you are a memory
Harry Jul 29
we love.
and we love to be loved.
but let's not waste any time
figuring out which one we prefer
Harry Dec 2019
On a winter day I'm walking in the woods,
I'm walking with the trees;
their story-telling leaves beneath me.
How old, I often wonder,
Would one need to be
to read the dreams of trees?
Perhaps that's what we see
when we eventually leave
our livelihoods behind us,
and stumble in the woods
until our memories find us.
Harry May 2018
there's something in the distance
not so far that I can't see it
but too far gone for me to glimpse it.
Harry Apr 2018
I'm alone;
this is what you wanted.
I can't decide if it's what I really wanted.

I'm alive
But only in the ways I want to be.
I'm terrified of the time that slips away so silently.

Am I alive?
or am I still pretending ?
Am I just extending a dream that's never-ending?

and it's all I've ever wanted to be.
I'm so scared
that this is all I am
and I'm so sure that this is all I need to be.
Harry Jan 2018
the tides are tied tight to the boats that lie south of the ocean.
the fishermen wade through their wages made just that day.
the seagulls prove costly to all but themselves as they help it to them
till the end of the morning is done.
Harry Dec 2016
Conceal our secrets in realness...
and tell me then that you don't feel this.
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