on breaking up with e.e.cummings

Take the sky and wait a while

When it blooms

Fly long miles from here inside
A beating heart
Close enough
Lives myself and me
And someone else
Who shares nothing

But death

And breath

And all those things we've forgotten.

He, me, she; we are they,
Him (us are them.)


Don't forget.

On way to the foreclosed bookstore,
To the dying doctor's, what's ailing you?
What's breaking inside of you?

Let go.

In the never end
what is control
but a panicked rushing towards
an eternity of nothing?

There is nothing as essential as what I find when I stop and see your smile


The leaves in their forever falling.

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