typographical illusions

is there a new me?
i haven’t felt my atoms juggle
or the breeze touch my face
in years
            that were so long I ached
from forgetfulness.
          watching
laughter ripple in other bodies
        i fumbled for eagerness
longing for it
                   like you longed to say words trapped in idioms

in definitions of language.

we suffered excitedly
thinking it to be a prelude.

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