• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 08
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An Unfinished Portrait

Let me tell you what I choose for your tear that runs onto your waistcoat dotting your handkerchief lining your trilby splashing onto the ferns spilling into the ground growing a tree.

Let me tell you where Cadmium Red not being painted on your lips your eyes softened with the years your hand invisible but a comb-like one propping your head up

Let me tell you about the double-breasted suit you've been wearing far too long the collars of your shirt tightens round your neck the insignificant small real you in a distance staring at the leaves that scatter round your shadow

Let me tell you that I wish you'd grow taller than the tree of responsibilities whose veins crawling back at you taller than the tallest tree you've ever climbed in the bed of Emerald Green ferns in the wild you'd lie, eyes wide open your face a cerulean blue

Let me tell you: you will