Late August
Dandelions drift in white
tulle and pass. Buttercups bend to wilt
in the grass. The swampfire shifts and
sinks to ash. Our air's a curtain
that never melts. Everything leans into
something else.
Dandelions drift in white
tulle and pass. Buttercups bend to wilt
in the grass. The swampfire shifts and
sinks to ash. Our air's a curtain
that never melts. Everything leans into
something else.
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