poems
words that needed somewhere to go
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small hours
the house settles into itself at 3am and i am still awake listening to the sound of everything deciding whether to stay there is a particular kind of quiet that only exists here — not the absence of noise but the presence of almost i make tea i won't finish i leave the window open i think about the word haunt and how it can mean love
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inventory
one black cat who knows too much four songs on repeat since november a window that faces the right direction at exactly the wrong time of day seventeen browser tabs all open to different versions of the same question this feeling like arriving somewhere and realizing you live there now