laundry

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the cool night
sweater pulling over your wrists
cascading warmth on your arms

the smell of fresh laundry
coming from a vent
of your neighbors home

the air is clear
and everything is a calm murmur
you wrap your legs as you sit in a chair

looking up at the night sky
wondering why
what am i doing here?

placing a warm drink on the table beside you
and the rock of the seat on the porch
feeling lost and a little blue

it feels worn out trying
everything is slowly dying
the dandelions smash on your footfall

like each star above
we are forgotten in the mass of it all
left on our own
to our own devices

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