Might my eyes grow wilder?
Seeing again the passage of spring transgressions.
Seeing black dying stars flicker like a flirting eye.
The sinking winds push against the wooden door.
This home inhales a misplaced breathe.
This home lets out a somber sigh.
This house is full.
Of it...
Laughter
Fear
Contempt
Jealousy
Hopelessness
Love
Hope
Night stabs at the windows to the soul.
The blind abduction of god.
Empty sighs grow silent and the last lights turn off.
The moon knew this house especially well.
She gave me a blessing before bed.
And it was good
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