sometimes i am crushed by
my own selfish sadness
the lines and contours
of tears and frown
married to the incandescent
flight of morning,
chained to my own wonder
of whether we will make it
or not - but i know
that depends on us, that
it all boils down to how much
of this we want to see,
how much of you i can
keep, how much of us will remain.
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