The feeling was scratched
on our weakened bark
Drip drop of a hell I never wanted to be a part of.
Yes, it came back to us this night. Of all nights.
The night of fog and clearing roads
Losing my favorite pebble
thrown around when it felt at times
jagged, sometimes,
or when it stole the warmth from my hands
and now the wet leaves
blue on my shoulders
ecstatic at my refusal to stay
constant as I challenge my direction
and the timpani between my eyes
and the heartbeat of the sluggish
curled up in your heart
where they have festered
all this time in your stead.
My skin imitates the moss in your head
where they last saw you
calm, still, in the forest
I almost relived your path
The crunching leaves
The limbs hopped
The hope limber still
Until the path spit us out
into thicket
Hard brush and rain ever constant
But I ran into the dark
heavied by the water
guessing for lights unseen
looking for paths unmarked
but in your stead
I found the precipice
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