phoebe

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i'll meet you

my poems aren't written to be mobile/tablet friendly. you might have to scroll right.
i'll meet you in the
grass at the edge
of gleann corp
where we lie still
in wait for gentle
autumn breezes
letting ourselves
slip between our
fingers like pale
wax, shedding
soft skin onto
the dewed dirt
what i wouldn't
give to be your
morning mug
holding waves
of ceaseless
understanding