it rushes into my heart
like the wind through your hair
tangling that long mane
as my love is still untaught.
your scent has vanished
in the wild gray sky,
my gaze unmoved by
the love that flees through my chest.
I dream of warm beaches
with your body beside me,
I learned
to fall in love outside myself.
I put an arm around you
and feel the warmth within,
I push my hunger through you
and listen to what stirs.
the wind blowing from inside my heart
strikes the hollow space
with fogged windows where
nothing matters now—more or less.
# West Wind The west wind comes carrying the scent of distant rain, touching my face like an old memory— soft, insistent, half-forgotten. It moves through the trees as though searching for something lost, bending the grass into waves, turning the world sideways. I stand here, breathing it in, and for a moment I am unmade— no name, no history, only this: the wind, the waiting, the sense that something is about to change. The west wind knows things I will never know. It has crossed oceans, worn down mountains, carried the last words of the dead to places they will never reach. And still it comes, gentle and relentless, asking nothing, taking everything away.
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