These paper planes unfold
into letters that were never sent:
every morning my unruly eyes
before your downcast ones -
"Good morning...", I whispered and you
only nodded to the spill of pearls
around you, and as I turned
you looked at my shrinking form,
scribbling an unending word
on your pad.
into letters that were never sent:
every morning my unruly eyes
before your downcast ones -
"Good morning...", I whispered and you
only nodded to the spill of pearls
around you, and as I turned
you looked at my shrinking form,
scribbling an unending word
on your pad.
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