Focus / Blur

I am the collector of small infinities.

There is beauty in everything, but there is no beauty in me. I am the eye. That is all. Your undone sweater. Its unraveling strings. You are the universe sometimes without knowing it.

Your wrists. Your wrists.

Don’t look at me. I am meant for the shadows but I will exalt you. I will immortalize you. Your slight sway, its heavy ways. It will not end how you imagined it to.

But it will end.

And the images I keep of you will be images only.

And you will be someone, someone from a long time ago. Their old sweater, its unraveling strings, and how I loved you.

And how I do.

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