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May 2015
you talked like you inked the water green, maybe its sparkles came from the ones in your eyes, that explains the darkness that replaced your pupils in a deep rich purple, when did the fences become so tall that we stopped bothering to climb them, did it bother you that the iron was coated in hard red glass, when we passed by the breakfast diner at 3:42am eight nights ago it shook you up how much freedom you've yet to use up and that's the same reason you left later that morning without packing up anything but a bag of m&ms; and your favourite navy blue travelling blanket, the one with the corner snagged on all the glistening dreams dripping with untreated finality we've yet to accomplish and horror stories by campfires lit to radiate up the dimmest nights, the fact that your silver coated camera is still sitting on your bed says a lot about where you're headed but the fact that the neon frozen yogurt sign is illuminating bright against the ink of the night says a lot about how i'm coping even when my tires are screeching and my legs are bleeding metals you didn't tell me about because our time wasn't spent timed right, the water's turning blue and it shines, not sparkles anymore, i'm climbing fences again so often my hands and knees are bruised yellow and brown, i don't eat breakfast anymore and i'm everything but free but the photos on your camera roll are of apologies, caramel constellations and citrus fruits all in the forms of lies and truths and promises
KKM
Written by
KKM  Toronto.
(Toronto.)   
356
   namii and Jim Musics
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