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ryn 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 Apr 2021
.
take me into
the darkest recesses
of my existence

and

stoke the cold flames
of this night’s elegy -
that burns
flickerless and black.



.
ryn Apr 2021
They say
that love
is a fool’s errand...

I guess
I just enjoy
running errands.
ryn Apr 2021
.
What happened to us?

How did warm incandescence
turn callously incendiary?

Did we ignite too quickly,
burn too fiercely,
only to die out prematurely?


If so...

Where did the ash from our bodies go,
if not carried away by the winds of time?
ryn Apr 2021
.
So enamoured
by the moon
was he...

That he had
disowned the sun

and
forgotten the stars.


.
ryn Apr 2021
painfully beautiful

is the symphony

of this bitter regress
ryn Apr 2021
.
     Captured breaths
within the
       moments in time.

   Broken snapshots
              frozen almost...
  Solid yet fragile
        and so brittle.

         Fractured and frail
      but in many ways,

              perfect.

.
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