souls that shatter
up spines and splatter
you take my hand
to carry me forward
for the sake of dreams of deep forests
long syllables slip so easy
spoken too soon
shaped like a heartburn
i love the spit that lasts on the walls
with carefully measured teaspoons
you scoop me away to the top of a mountain
where we dress in cotton linen
rub sap on our wounds
plant roses for their thorns
and remain at peace
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