Cycles
the wheel was invented so
we could keep coming back here
day turns to night and
that sweat isn't mine again
something in your face
pushes me back like a tide
a beach full of eyelashes
i'm running, collecting them
but only when the water is low
and i can't see your eyes
nor you mine
because then we wouldn't want to hold hands anymore
and all of the pebbles on the beach would turn to sand.
.
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