Near Matches
Ignore Exact
Everything
2
There is likely no one left who remembers
You are like red strings tied on my fingers tonight
we die containing a richness of lovers and tribes
Our desire to remember has been fragmented into a thousand slices
I know. I can't remember.
Somewhere there is one who remembers.
the failure of linearity
how striking is the world, how careless and full of desire
Lightning makes no sound, and until the thunder comes, you are alone with the light
The difference between poetry and prose
Valentine
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