We’ll call my heart Loki

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My heart feels like a mumuration of starlings without the flight pattern. Chaos rules. We’ll call my heart Loki. The dark wings of it collide into each other in black plummage to the earth; everything returns to dirt and my heart is no exception.

You said my eyes were a flat distance, funny that they betray the free fall.

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One comment

  1. Beautiful and mournful. All at once.

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