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Spaghetti knots

may may be

maybe they’re wrong

when the blue night becomes fragile

on the yarn of a sunken yawn

playing between two waves that

are still still waters

but will one day see the world together

until they crash into our naked laughter


maybe they’re wrong

when the bar is already full

with green sniffing the vinyls long since forgotten

hanging there

with dear written in taxidermist smoke and spit

that never makes it to the right throats

even as we share a drink


maybe they’re wrong

when the glasses are broken a second time

after concession stands and bargain hunting

where beautiful women advertise

how the hand blown curves

hold anything one can desire

which you remind is exactly the problem


maybe they’re wrong

when ancient cities whisper the myths of this

into the tiny patterns of hungry birds

that call to time without time

to heal the wounded single sun

that bleeds on us too


maybe they’re wrong

when the keys collected no longer work

when the envelops remain unopened

when they aren’t

about wrong

about when

about maybe


for one day

apart and alone

we will become exactly what we wanted

when we learned to want each other

in waves



the days will go on

just right

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


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