The tent on the sun
We watch, we watch the ripples in our hands turn to fire. Burning the roots of our hair, sculpting the honey in my eyes. As our bodies are changing i feel the texture of the world move, i feel it shift under the brains in my feet. My hands grip hers. The borders of the tent turned to the shades of her hair, soft and thin as snow. Her and the tent become brighter and brighter, the sun inches from our fingers pulling at our atoms turning everyone thing to one, one moment. The sun looking into our eyes, braiding our hair, mending our souls. The tent on the sun, the warmth of its shell sharing with anyone; here it is time to breathe.
We watch, we watch the ripples in our hands turn to fire. Burning the roots of our hair, sculpting the honey in my eyes. As our bodies are changing i feel the texture of the world move, i feel it shift under the brains in my feet. My hands grip hers. The borders of the tent turned to the shades of her hair, soft and thin as snow. Her and the tent become brighter and brighter, the sun inches from our fingers pulling at our atoms turning everyone thing to one, one moment. The sun looking into our eyes, braiding our hair, mending our souls. The tent on the sun, the warmth of its shell sharing with anyone; here it is time to breathe.
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