Roads of Pine


Built walls out of wood from caskets and lies
from little girls who claimed they could trade gold from my time.
Do you remember what color
my eyes were that night
the shade and flecks in them
what about the size?
Could you tell how they look when
I'm standing in the light,
how they change color every
time your skin touches mine?
Two little black dots that like
to hide
between lashes of feathers
and melted tears of pine.

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