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Apr 2020
Off-color, dun, waste in the tepid air
Keepers and thieves, we are,
With shovels and keys
Grace my grave not, love, I am not there
I know, I know you’re scared
Bile may rise and boil your tears-
Children are better at hiding and seeking,
We, we wretched few-
Follow the notes once sung through our blood
Dusty music-box time capsules
Back to when we couldn’t lose
Unloaded hand in hand, building bridges over
Quicker sands than grains in glass
You took my fingertips, we carved our names into the bark
with the needle-points of ribs

You, you told me we’d go together

I’m sorry it isn’t true
“Here lies, my lullaby”- the skitter of the leaves’ whisper
What did they whisper in your ear?
Of stars and galaxies?

Of a rotten fantasy

Ah, ‘twas the one, of our flat. Off-color, dun,
Baited wasted breath in the tepid air-
Was it of keepers of keys?

No, shovels-

-And thieves?

And thinking I was too young
To love you.
Alexandria Hope
Written by
Alexandria Hope  25/Gender Fluid/Doolin, Clare, Ireland
(25/Gender Fluid/Doolin, Clare, Ireland)   
   Sekhar and Kvothe
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