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what meets and passes the eyes

is the world waiting for us
or are we waiting for the world
were we born into this world
or born out of another?
when we unwind a scroll,
do the letters miss wrapping themselves
around one another? do they feel
thin, stretched out, exposed over the parchment
distant from one another?
at what point does love decide to walk out
leaving a cold lover’s gaze as haunted
and as thick as the fog that grazes the
crowns of mountains? do dogs
count the number of times
they walk around in circles
before lying down? does a town
feel like less of a city
without as many sidewalks,
signals, or frowning people
burying their minds into pockets
of and coffee grounds? i surely can’t
be the only one who absentmindedly
wonders deeply about these things
and all the loneliness yet serenity
each one brings

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: unfurl

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