11/9
Your laugh is a lantern
made of fireflies and mason jars.
11/8
The air is crisp like a paper knife
A barely-there moon snags a threadbare brightness
from the night's deep cobalt throat
and tonight clarity is a curved papercut,
an ivory crescent who waits for red.
11/7
Karaoke
Somehow
the words made plopping noises
as they hit the microphone.
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