I’d like to cry
without disguise
stifling it
with my will
I cry for
the bee who
submitted its life
on its last trip
called back to the
cosmo’s beehive
I cry for you
my friend
though it’s
joyous
and complete
the trace of
the line
I cry from
the well
never knowing
why
I think maybe
it’s just acting
my eyes washed
chest replenished
here comes the
thunderclap.
A bath-tub cry.
Published
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