{In which she writes after not writing for days and days and days}

 

She runs to breathe,
and be
-lieves that things will get better
with the dawn.

She holds that fire
in her heart
and wishes upon it, knows these
days are numbers, fleeting.

She is equal parts
lake ache
and sky song, still
longing for other
places, small traces of hope,
scribbling her name in clouds,
finding herself
here.

 

…

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