One wing
within another fluttering
through the graves;
through water
magnifying your imperfections.
You stole my camera
to take a picture
of a warmer breeze –
something to look at
when you felt cold.
The colder days
inevitably came,
the warmth in
the negatives dissipated
amidst despondence.
I felt a wave of melancholy;
I stood still
deathly tired.
(repeat)
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