trees & forests

Tree roots tangle,
hold together ribs in a way that aching muscle fibres don’t.
And your eyes,
flicker, find mine,
Hold
Wait
Watch
Fill me up
Hold
Break
Me or you?
Forests don’t speak,
no matter how many trees hit the ground.

But your silence,
it comes out like poetry.

— 

Eye contact


-bits and pieces of what could be anything
(m.s)