Breathe

breathe

openings
between building
where nothing ever was
just the sun on an afternoon
playing through the leaves of the greenest maple
over train tracks
space where the song of the cicada
was comfort
grass growing to our waists and no fear
of the unknown

breathe

last seconds of naivety
slipping into consciousness
slipping into self-awareness
slipping into every day
every hour
every minute
every second

breathe

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