Stars
Last week, there was a flower
we argued about the colors
as if somehow consequential
Or meaningful in the vastness
of the void. My deaf ears, both
shattered and torn at the lobe
My vague appeal broken by
gentle whispers washing through.
I can't believe in stars anymore.
we argued about the colors
as if somehow consequential
Or meaningful in the vastness
of the void. My deaf ears, both
shattered and torn at the lobe
My vague appeal broken by
gentle whispers washing through.
I can't believe in stars anymore.
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