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explode your throat in noes.
stop me dreaming in halves.
ground me down from any
tiny jump that could catch
your eye - a leap of faith.
yes, he killed her. i can’t.
the color of her eyes
is sincere as the sun,
safe as a strong embrace.
there’s history in them:
you’d tell too from one look.
i… can’t move, i… ok.
rig f laurel Jul 1
the last star i saw is gone from me:
clouds block the rest of the universe.

the fields around are my memories:
tasteless stills lacking in difference.

the songs in my mind call out for ghosts:
invisible loves. ***** dishes.

and yet some gods call me back inside,
asking for words to paint their prayers.
rig f laurel May 24
her name caught a question in my throat:
its first utterance barely completed
and i felt her hate engulf my all.
i touch the scars upon her back, still
gold in the lightlessness of her doom,
longing for stripped rainbows - turned to mist.
she’ll forever resent my living
beside her living half. my love for
colors she herself once stood for too.
rig f laurel Apr 4
windows closed watch a mid-twenties hearth.
black petal water - a magic mug
steaming thoughts of real lives yet dormant.
indigo country sounds echo ‘round
a calm silent darkness – dream cabin.
far away, a booming planet sleeps.

the clear fire flickers, expecting
a promised rainbow soul - hers to it.
iris opens her eyes to the flames.
rig f laurel Mar 31
unable to reach
incredible imageries
and be innocent.
rig f laurel Mar 27
i wait, expecting
words that can bring my own out.
the wall won’t answer.
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