Wish-wash thought process

Leonid Afremov Painting
Hot air balloon stuck in the throat
For the thought of having found you

Do you hear that?
Drummers beat to the September sun's heat
Luring the lonely souls to write their sheet
Of paper. Fill it with their emptiness.
Can you hear their pens echoing through their emptiness?


Lover's summer ended in a vortex of stuck,
Purified air. Do you feel that?

Long walks in avoidance of one another
In the full dark that never should end
Just so you're stuck there with me
Inside, safe and warm, calm.

Revealing the gracious glam that makes us lost
To be nothing when apart.

Can't you see that?


Quiet air, quiet fair, quiet heart and scrap the fall.

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