Home by Anastasia DiFonzo
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My hardest parts
under your glow become soft.
I’m digging my hands
into the newly aching
like a child discovering sand,
each grain a remnant
of what once was whole,
shaved now into bits that don’t fit.
Though there’s air between us
we can barely find it, but we dig
until we’re both further and closer.
I’ve never met an end
I can’t see, and though I know
how solids work, I find
you break the rules.
You fluid and endless pillar.
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