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a forest brighter than the sun






we are sketched as a brightness
cast from our other lives

the ones outsiders never see,
secreted, tired and empty, deep below
the waste of our need

line and circles
of ash on bone

timid sigils smudged into our curve

signs of how a memory can only ever
capture the shape of a tree

long after it has burned
away








Author notes

Prompt: Option 5
Edits: 3

In a list

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