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Feb 2019
a rose doesn't capture it
or a gemstone, color, spirit animal
blue-white new age glossy frames of text
instructions, categories, futile totems
that I place hopefully around
rivers and rivers of you
shining wet on my skin so bright
I can barely understand
the weather won't ever be mine
in the fog it's difficult to feel
desert or delta
whether this runs dry or not, it grows
impossible to come to terms with my smallness
so I curl up in your smile and hope
the leaves never stop falling
Written by
   Connor Ruther
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