Play me a memory

ore

everything about ancient is love
to have feelings as old as fossils
that carved out the core of our being.
you are a cloud,
a soft memoir in August.
you are not an absence of sleep, or
—an unrefined earth.
there’s a liquid inside your bones
and it is where laughter mixes with tears,
and where children come for a hug.
there’s liquid inside your bones
and you do not use it to define you—
to define the stillness when your heart breaks.
look! there’s nothing beautiful about being tough.

Ruddapoet

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