this was gonna be mine but now its ours

131 14 5

on the way home,

a gutter spit life into a dead 

name. and crowded,

    the trees were, when they saw

your body in the snow.  but

       i saw birds blooming on

                bare                   branches

and                       the                             spinning

stopped.       three years

              burst between hot     /       breaths

and the sun   /   behind a cloud


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