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willow branch earthward,
a brittle leaf crumples.
if the truth starts now,
what about our promises?
pretty little words born
from blood & ice cream--
how come we couldn't see
my fall would be so hard
it shattered everything?
i was born of winter and
you were violent spring.
truth is that, just true
and true is cold as ice,
no molding it with hands
to make it our newborn--
still, don't you wonder?
did you choose correctly
or are you stuck there--
dead leaf in your hands?
i wonder about that too.