this is the story
of someone who saw a world
through the frayed heart of
tattered cotton fabric.
lands of discarded pages,
broken desks and burst soccer balls
sink into this disarray, vast
and wide, land
in a patch of tiny white buds;
because fairytales
aren't ever
supposed to end.
(I couldn't post yesterday; I apologize.)
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in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)