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Apr 2021
If spoken words meant the same

and if they still sing the memories of

full breaths and shared palms,


the steady elapsed ticks of the long-sunken

hand will resurface once more to chronicle

the suns of days and stars of nights.
ryn
Written by
ryn  πŸ‡ΈπŸ‡¬
(πŸ‡ΈπŸ‡¬)   
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