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I should tell you to
Stop the well springing
From the corners of
Your heavy eyes
Running down the museum
Of your existence.

I should tell you
That the salt slipping
Slowly, will not
Sanitize or sweeten
The pinches you feel
On your heart.

But I would rather
You let it all out till
It dries and leaves
Paths for me to
Guide the sunshine
Back into
Your eyes.

So the rainbow
On your face
Shows itself
Again.

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How it is

This meta-language
Of compact meaning
Like the wasps nest
In the corner of your room
Is but a landmark
The thorny hedge we
Jumped over to leave
School and find freedom.
It is difficult like
The taste of the fermented herbs we
Used to drink to
Numb our minds from
Feeling the pain of
Our broken hearts.
Indeed it is rich in
Wisdom as if it was
Raised by the light
Of the stars that teach
Sails how to escape the strong seduction
Of the sea and return home
It has brogued my
Hands with the words
I never said,
The emotions I
Never felt, the
Tears I never shed.
So they pour out
Like lava from the earth’s
Running nose anytime
I remember to forget
The shadows I used
To chase
The pale dark bookmarks
Of the pit stops
In my life