this city is a garden
where all the sensitive seeds
furrow deep in the dark
wet wonderland of winter
just waiting for the sun
to hit them up
like a spotlight
saying, go, go honey
it's your turn
sing us your
gorgeous moody truth
sing us your news
sing us anything
true, we'll treasure you
we'll pick you
we'll put you in our
blue glass vase
from the vintage glass case
we'll study your face
for heartbreak and
saving grace
we'll smell your exhale
as your lips tell all the
secret trails of who you
never thought you'd
bloom into
this city will water you
through and through
'til you can't undo
the nourishment
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