Thoughtful

in my presence

he was tall
before many
but fell short
in my presence.

A disaster
with no quandary,
no cursory decelerations
by dawn’s promiscuous hues,
crested as the serpentine trails
of tears, shed like skin–
flakey and delicate as moths,
as ash fell like rain drops
as I tipped my head back
and laughed.

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