haikus sans
the same glimpses, left unspoken. for the ones who write their own.
haikus sans
the same glimpses, left unspoken. for the ones who write their own.
from somewhere slightly sideways
every time felt like the first
but it was already the last
some doors open with sound.
others open with silence.
this place waits for the quiet ones.
current position: between timelines.
pressurized silence,
season: undefined
your voice still floats at cruising altitude.
the sky said hold on,
but the ground forgot how.
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