Rough hands
roll liquid
over parched skin;
it’s a promised invite
to dive in
deeper waters
and learn to breathe naturally
I suck in
his air
and I swear
I can live forever
on one breath
wild like the wind
expanding the chest
to its full potential.
He came
with prisms in each feather
but I couldn’t understand what I felt
until much later
and by then
fates dictate
wild men disappear
back into the wood from whence they came.

The trees were young then
and now
they’re dying.
Howl at the moon
there will be no answer.

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