yes we hold these small things in place
like trinkets, these breaths continue their outwardly pour
contacting the santa anas through a spring window
ticking like crickets
and dying like bees
yes we are holding onto these things tightly
you.......you continue to evade my grasp
far too long
100 years and i'm still caught in this laborious solitude
the war has ended but she's still dreaming of mustard
and mortar
yes, i've been holding onto these for a little too long
scared of the slipping and
other uncomely things
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