The strings of weave, final and emerging--
crane-coiling-- (^
I know your music;
I feature the shut it disperses to meet.
Me to shape with paper twisted,
tension in sleep;
Me to see yet be, and I swear silken--
breath I roll plain to strain door locks.
I, the familiar scent of apart;
I reach for tendons and body.
What to you new compels dreaming,
dissolves worlds, ropes on figures.
I note fingers in the memory;
I name strings
as I and anonymous meet.
I am side-followed, a draw that's easing--
so hear delusion dimensions
and my shoulders close.
Know I am
when our sheets tighten--
we became your outer and quickly learned air
carried between creases and folds.
You are a heat I discern as striving,
and where I see blossoms focus I wander
as a one-and-convinced forget,
until we stand near to plains,
entrance doors.
This natural standing between,
that inner between us
and what lingers where I can't descend--
my too-present vibrating sides fastened elegantly.
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