Poem 5 Draft

For Thalia

*

The crying: surprising as a train

of our own flutter of actually
being good, OK. I didn’t forget

about you. Over murk in colored

of falling in girl, at first just snooping

for the life-like being the only
girl a present braid. In a retriever

of your face I decided on dying

this time around it, a pagoda

to the real thing, the person.
I am looking at photography of

your face, to know. If I make

resolutions and if you will stay,

to lean on you are my new sister,
you are my new baby I feel like I

don’t need to explain anything else

when we’ll be laughing, beyond

any amazing scene of a screenplay
where I say Exactly. Yes. But sad is

OK. Sometimes things are sad.

I think I can handle sad. I just

can’t handle hope. And then you say
it is invented anyway and this

is what it’s like: Good morning!

Good morning, Love. We’ll figure

out a way for you to move home
The water here makes sense to us

and it’s my favorite day to be brave

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