The Twelth

This kiss,

this sun on skin,
breaking leaves give way to heavy steps.
This path a mirrored dream,
These brambles rip, tear – kiss.

The broken skin, sky ripping.

Shouting. Crackling.
                  Burning.
My mind full of an echoing shout:
your words a scornful lecture, fading.
The distant voices. The chorus of morning.

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