For C
If you arrive at my window
like a distorted vine which
outgrew itself,
I shall welcome you
into the glass.
Your lithe breathing
will become the dusks
and dawns of each day.
You will burn in the sun
and your shadow
will last on my bed
like a forgotten stranger.
If you arrive at my window
like a single line
that runs like a vein
down the glass
into my room,
I shall disguise you
so that the universe
cannot find its missing piece.
Do not break the glass,
or ruin the light,
just remain in me
like the purple hue
of a silhouette
at sunrise.
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