Who are we, but ourselves.
What are we, but each other.

Fool’s Gold

I sigh like if I did
it hard enough, I would see
the air that escapes
my lips. The way it does
when it’s winter, the heat that runs
my body slipping
through my teeth- gaining form as it enters
the atmosphere, fueling amusement and

imagination alike. Suddenly, I am
a dragon, letting loose
a plume of flame to stake
my claim, roaring to the heavens as
I stretch out my wings, a vow
to protect what I hold dear- to sear
all those who threaten
my treasure

to ashes. But my effort
does not take form
here, though I cannot
blame it. The weather here
is humid, and my blaze
has long flickered
out.

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