The air is olive-grey.
You perform beside me:
Your song of meta-text.
The wind carries blue sky.
You breathe the spring fragrance:
Your acceptance of the unspeakable.
The graffiti are covered by dust.
Your eyes unfocussed on the birds:
You develop an abstraction of nest.
I am a horizon in this narrative.
You shine on me unlimited
By expectations. Or biases.
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