Chasing the Moon

it was far. until it wasn’t. a commulative endurance. stickpins in the shallow folds  of our want. pages torn from the depths of our loss.

wearing the math like soldiers in a storm. searching for the sum. defending the deficit. the rain doubts. but the wind is sure.

the distance has its skirmishes. still the weather determines the length of our war. the scrape of skin. the stab of gravity. as the edge approaches. a puzzle without pieces. a pictire in the dark.

it’s never too close. nor too far. the bridges take us there. our choices takes us home.

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