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An Observation MAG
The forsythia
glowing luminous in the
dim muddle of a
gray day invokes the
neon blur of roadside signs
against inky dark,
or the way you can
only hear her heartbeat when
all else is silent:
only when other
life fades out does the contrast
make her seem alive,
just like the way she
only loves you when you’re gone.
It’s curious how
we only seem to
notice all that we have when
it’s taken from us,
somehow sunshine feels
warmer and birdsong sweeter
after the blizzard.
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