beauty, love, masculinity, poetry

Still

The smoke coils upwards,

Faint and always in the process

Of becoming something else

Invisible to the eye

But sensed

When you’re free to be quiet

I replenish in solitude,

Connect to the self,

As the day rubs its eyes,

Breathes in and if you

Concentrate with the earnestness of

A child’s wish,

You get to breathe with it

Aware,

Playful,

Burdened with the charge of

Dissatisfied hungers,

quiet concerns,

But still,

Still,

Still

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