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maybe.

maybe.

i craved the open road, the quiet peace that comes with being alone, copper sun shining on a burning horizon, the highway sound carried like whispers on the wind i wanted to travel the world, my heart much too big for this small place we would climb to the roof and...
we make do.

we make do.

we eat worry with yesterday’s leftovers, anxiousness swallowed down with a bit of bread that we bought with loose change found between seat cushions years of empty pockets have left us accustomed to its stale taste it will be another long day today the poems will have...
we are poetry.

we are poetry.

words sit thick like cotton on the tongue waiting to be spun into a dress of pretty prose for strangers to wear, letters and lace to drape across the shoulders of people we will never meet, soul stories told by hands that hold tendrils of magic we move between...