(Poems) – happiness

in the way that it is

the most rotten fruit

to swallow.


in the way that it haunts

me at night and 

kisses me in the morning.


in the way that it sinks

but I can still touch it so

I sink with it.


in the way that it hates

to be written and 

loves to burn in your hands.


in the way that it dies and

dies and

dies.

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