» 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 « 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

» ashes, ashes

i'm stomping up a hill, my shoesteps
scatters the embers of old fires around + above me
the air is choked and weeping 
( the air remembers its youth ) 
( i do not remember mine ) 
that was four years ago.
there are still ashes on my face.

[ 8.3.21 ]