except for the soft steps soft
thuds that we create
in the spaces we carve open
and it takes dedication to remain quiet,
while deer stand idly by
to graze on the petals that spring
out of your every tiny step
we water gardens with sadness
and by night crush them
with our bodies warm
as if from a day in the sun
it makes no difference to me
what color the roses are
or what the chrysanthemums smell like
they are beautiful i touch them
while they flower like lips
i hope in the night you feel radiant
and when a train nearby passes
making its soft, shattering sounds
i hope you let it take you away.
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