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of you :: wendy videlock

by on July 4, 2016

You’ve been the wolf, you’ve been the bear,
you were the grass when I was air,
the hush of the lake, eyes and lips,
a shyness at my fingertips,

a motion that knew when to slow,
the forest where I always go;

and now you are the windowsill
I rest my elbows on until
the night grows dark and I can’t see
these silhouettes of you and me.

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