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autumnthe wind slips her under the awnings
and she yawns; shudder, and the doors shut.
She slept through the downy mornings of spring; her resting
in summer's thorny evenings
leaves her with a bed of brittle buddleias
and moonglades in the puddles.
She sleeps and dreams of goslingsshe
dewbows and moonbeams
and all imaginary things.
petrichorthere is nothing so small
as leaves groping
at the warmth of summer
in its penultima;
one final wane before another year
until the first thrill of petrichor
ForeverRummaging through my life, I was strong enough to thank my god
as 'warfare' sounds like forever.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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