Mia Musa
A lighthouse
black and gray
we build
then bend
then move to be
away
closer yet
and closer still
we'll soon see
if our orisons
have been heard
to be
“I have lost my dewdrops!” Cries the flower to the morning sky that has just lost all its stars... All bleeding stops eventually. I am but a collection of particles, atoms that chose to suffer in unison.
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