there is no book

today you’re milestoning miles away
and you are owning life in fistfuls,
for you there will always be poems
I think of you fine, like eating all my greens
I think of you fine, like one more whiskey shot
my love for you, discovered nameless
uncovered, a swirling, effortless brook
you are a rare bird,
beautiful, and flown from the pages
body as a nest,
there is no book.

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3 responses to “there is no book

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