coughing bees, laughing trees, skin

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blood lurches over the edges of this old, fixed love, mimicking the motion of gathered water jumping from cupped hands, such trembling and worn fingers, knobby joints like soft clefts in a pale and hidden road.
i feel every layer of energy in this movement, its interruption of the heart, the beating falters as eyelids struggle and stability is pinned down; a great and terrible king, beaten and ashamed.
i feel my bones. they ache.











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