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May 2020
I’ve got a wild hair
This oil spill running through my soul
Reflects iridescent rainbows
Soft shadows clinging to dark depths
I inhale the star dust of old bones
They scatter my brow, meteorites plunging across the edges of my sight
The wind like burning sonnets
As I belt out across the wide expanse of fading cotton candy sky
My lungs ache with unspoken words, ones I long to whisper, to sing
Instead I scream until my legs feel weak
There is no more left of me
But for the rich loam of Appalachia curving crescents beneath each fingernail
Hold fast babbling brook
Hold fast
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
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