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Love,
Two (naive) names
Carved in bark
Gilded in my veins
Trees tying roots
and lifting concrete
A twisted ring
Caught between my fingers
Rubbing my scalp
Old and wrinkly
Thick binding
and soft pages
Pushing me forward
And having my back
Purposeful
Getting-on-my-nerves while
Locked in continents of conflict
Then
Wondering if the sun
Gets jealous of your light.