Paper Graveyard

Maybe we could patch the miles together
with my skipping bones and your curls,
woven across the plains.

Your letters blanket the desk,
a field of broken seals, broken hearts,
the miles of distance in a paper graveyard.

In the night, my sadness masked by the dark—
You’d leave like a nightmare.

I hope the doorstep tripped you,
pulled out your breath from behind you,

and left it under the mat.

You swept me away
and I’ll never forgive you for that.

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About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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