where all the cars
are anted by this take off,
and memories

are numbed by the sea

as a slipstream
or driftwood
but not so lonely

let me be;
let us be.

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changes swirl
in my teacup
dripping blood
from my father's broken heart

yet i cannot part

the glassy sunshine
and tepid rain
the little joys
without a name

i so so wish that
i could shred
this sea of red
in which
storms swirl
(in a teacup)
but the sweet and sour
ketchup drips
from my torn and breaking heart

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