love, masculinity, poetry

Strings of light and shadow

There are moments

Hung suspended

A string of lights

Still lit,

Long past the season,

A few bulbs, dead with time

But sat there,

Bathed in a carnival of light,

All festive colours

Even the cheer has a dim memory,

But the shadows matter as much

As the light they oppose,

And between them both

I sit

And hold your hand

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