When weeks drift by

framed under cement skies,

my spirit feels like

an autumn leaf on a wet road.

Waterlogged and sluggish. Bright

colours muted with tears, holes

beginning to grow like the moment

the rocket met the universe.

Soon I will decompose; percolating

back into the earth with the rains

so that I may grow anew.

– Drew Evagreens –

by

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