i will probably write you poetry for the rest of your life

(just to make sure you know what everyone else will surely forget)

the desire to continuously improve one’s self is indeed a mark of greatness


although im not sure
even the veins of my poetry are thick enough to carry this oxygen
i am carrying this / weight of nothing
like trying to catch stars with bare hands

pulling them down for you – the stars out of range
oceanic moons and sun’s with no name
like soft branches that never break – bending love and time

drinking the fire from heaven / and the world gazes wishing they knew our secret

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