And we’ll outlive forests, like the every breathing,
Meeting of palms. Like oceans swept to surrender.
Like this calm crack in your voice, almost alluring,
Like sidewalks coated in solitude and glow.

Like I will never forget you, and how you traipsed
The three meters between kitchen and refrigerator,
The sharing of our realities,
Your first words to me that one rainy Sunday.

I should’ve brought an umbrella;
You did not deserve to be soaked, but
The café was inviting enough, with hints
Of mild cinnamon and cigar smoke—

I have never felt as excited about cakes before,
And forests, too — of that, I’m sure.
But we’ll outlive forests, you said,

You said, every one will soon wake up
But we’ll still be dreaming,

Breathing, breathing,
Amidst the burning.


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