Sacred hollows

Sacred hollows


There is a dark river
knotting itself at the heart
of our hearts
that cannot be undone
only loosened like a scarf
allowing sunlight
to sip the songs and shadows
pooled in the thumbprints
at the base of our throats
letting the breeze
breath upon our necks
stroke the lobes of our ears
take our pulse


the hollows in faraway fields
where ghosts unravel
their evaporation
mistaken for smoke
a fire without flames


these slow walks make me cry
they are the closest I come
to holding your hand
breaths curling
in the shallows of my palms

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