day twenty-eight
this is a poem about a girl [for once]
and as such will refer to her as a gentle ray of sunlight
filtered down through cloud and canopy,
laid upon the palm like insubstantial matter.
she, too, fades as the time exhales into the twilight.
how lasting may her touch be? and longer even her words -
if i could string together all of the gentle laughter
and the late-night i'm praying for you -
but she drifts away faster, still.
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