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Sep 2021
For the shards underneath my kitchen stove.
i run my fingers through moments thawed
clawing, catching, grasping—
drip, drip, dripping mercury gold
a rupture veiled with wisdom sought
like a Band-Aid on my pinky toe,
a mere stain ‘cross the tablecloth
when every gasp ***** holes anew
deep in bosoms pulsing violet blues

For the wrinkles i failed smoothing through.
paracosmic ashes from bridges burnt
decaying below my point of view, overdue
adieus stashed ‘tween your books and
pertinacious passion seeping through
my pillowcase i tucked in place
souvenirs of potential
framed laced pinkies sitting down
with my strewed syllables marooned and brown
a lynx vanishing with clementine eyes

Until the chalice of chrysalis manifests.
come ‘morrow is an acquainted rue
when all but my love subdued
February 2021. Why is this still accurate?
Andrei Corre
Written by
Andrei Corre  21/F/Philippines
(21/F/Philippines)   
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