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Greyson Sweetbrook 7

Updated on May 5, 2016

You

In the evening, my thoughts roam,

cats in search of a mouse, a molly,

a confused iris blooming in the moonlight


(if that’s what you were)


and I wandered, and I wandered,

never accepting anything less than

a foot beyond the edge that

the dream suggested


even if it was just a feeling, a hunch, a sense

of things responsible for the quivering

want that was only answerable by


you

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