The joints
Your knees
The maple trees.
The dragonfly
The bowls of soup
The bones and back breaking work
The years and years.
The threads.
The barrels. The bowls. The mugs, the chairs.
You should take away the light, then.
The moon
The music
The morning.
The paints and years of colour.
The darkness of the highway,
The frying and searing
The scorching.
The soft grass—The meadow.
Your hair tucked behind your ear.
The moments we made and only I witnessed.
How do I separate a soul from a body. My lifetime of me. A lifetime of you. Why are you making me.
And I won’t.
Feb 16, 2024
Feb 16, 2024 at 12:30 AM UTC
The joints
Your knees
The maple trees.
The dragonfly
The bowls of soup
The bones and back breaking work
The years and years.
The threads.
The barrels. The bowls. The mugs, the chairs.
You should take away the light, then.
The moon
The music
The morning.
The paints and years of colour.
The darkness of the highway,
The frying and searing
The scorching.
The soft grass—The meadow.
Your hair tucked behind your ear.
The moments we made and only I witnessed.
How do I separate a soul from a body. My lifetime of me. A lifetime of you. Why are you making me.
And I won’t.
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