weightless

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weightless

I am waiting for
my thoughts to become still

like the pale pink flesh of roses
Or for them
to transform the purple stain of your bruises into beautiful violets.
If I wait a little longer
Your favorite blanket
Will turn the sky into a blood red sunset.
And the piercing noise of your IV drip
Will become a muted silence
-weightless

And the air between us,
Butterflies.

By J. Hamilton