I saw you hang yourself to an end of a quote
some small fate that your books fall by my keep
and that smile before we spoke, almost always whispered:
I swore that the stars no longer rule.
you hold my world here, to see you writing yours
carved between stone and the length of sorrow
could I tell your greatest fear is that:
all of love is only borrowed.
the dreamers stand, on weight to move the water
or mistaken for the rust-less
secrets you won't know:
slow bird, so last, fierce.
—Ian William L.
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