Filament strands run down my biceps, an alkaline sea of wasted potential - differences between fingers and firecrackers, differences between darkness and soft eyes
Fill me up with light, like a bulb,
An ocean escapes me, reflected tenderly
And refracted towards the poles, Southwards
If a hill stood to the top, if stairs formed the sky
A cascade is all I can release, through the sieve
Of my hands
Floats your love
Floats my tender trying
©another
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