investigating (like a cricket
in the night)
all
the ways we love
each
other / how it shows /
and
we wake each other
(up)
in midnights
between spring and Some
kind of rain.
it blows
against the windows,
regretting rain
(and pacing like thunder)
/
killing bugs
/
and showing us
the (crooked) little legs
of bliss...
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