I Think of Summer

I think of summer as autumn moves away opening the doors to winter. Strong gust of November winds blow past my shell ripping apart my safe house just at the start of the cold. Summer has ended, a season gone but work still remains to be done. I’ve been lazy dancing under the sun, now…

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Keys to Open

How strange is it to have to ask for keys to open our own hearts. To ask someone else to unlock it, should the demon escape from the dungeons. What fills the heart is but not a demon, it is an angel. Teach him to fly, perhaps he’ll return to you, if not, he will…

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Space

If you were an artist and I was an object, what space would I occupy in your canvas? Would I be a fruit on the table or a shadow beneath? Or the painting inside the painting or the floor spread all across? Would you care to splash your paint and make space for me?

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