élan

thistles slip into thumps

forests covered in dust

words flowing, silence

each simple

ticking heart 

violent beginnings like

skipping a boulder 

on shallow water

panting, soft 

wave of emotion this slow

buildup, laughter 

to jump out 

of safety strings, knotted

illusion of home

it was never

freedom

shrouded in 

counterfeit cardboard hugs

going to pour all of it

into the hot pot of

self, loving sensual, open 

for my sanity 

to sleep on my own, touching 

knowing those hands 

we’ll come

I can breathe, twist 

wring the fog machine out

when you find me

I’ll be laughing 

creating coloured cobwebs

in hiking boots 

dresses and oysters

full throttle to the coast 

there’s freedom 

in love and

peace in cold palms 

pressed into a spirit 

I know what I want

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