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purple beams May 2019
Why does the sun shine
on empty branches?
The wind rustles the grass
like I rustle my guitar.
Wish the clouds could
take me to Paris.
purple beams May 2019
You strip me bare,
crawl under my skin,
and worm into my brain.
In a blink you’re mine,
I’m yours.
In a blink you’re gone,
I’m yours,
still.

— The End —