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Feb 2018
A river passes by
saturating the dry
red earth below.

Tunnels are saved,
caves are lost.
Who let you in?

A swamp above,
a basin of love,
a sound forgotten.

It floods the core,
It melts the rock,
a lie revealed.

Filling my mind filled thick like a sauna,
marinated with wine plenty in the cellar,
oil on canvas dried brush thick in yellow;
it's me who grows this time.

Pollinated hives dress the wind with nectar,
one soothing cry calms the silence forever,
coins jingle by in the cup of a beggar;
it's me who grows this time.

The way I see
I'm arid mars,
and down on me
your Venus flows,

and I can feel
scary and new,
and I can feel
you all around,

and eventually
you will be,
a part of me
and we'll both turn,

into something free
together now,
just you and me
so much to show.
Dylan Growcoot
Written by
Dylan Growcoot  20/M/Sheffield, UK
(20/M/Sheffield, UK)   
230
   Dylan Growcoot
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