littleonion

By littleonion

Everything's Eve

This strange Spring
feels apt,
red ink and wet snow
replacing crimson trees and hands,
swirling mush an elegy
to everything.
All gone! All gone!
Swaggering rooks torment me,
trees silently sympathise.
The swing of things is dragging me
from faint glow
into flat light.
Let it shred me

I will always carry this softness,
always feel it kick.

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