Tag Archives: love’s labor

Quill

Within the unbearable lightness of love’s proofed labor, a single feather pen, producing words that sing, traceless, and move worlds to shake and reckon. (Image by Izumi Yokoyama)

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Husk

The quiet net of one’s fingers, mute and aggrieved, yet lapping volumes of light, a measureless brood husking the dark to derive a glean, its rivet bound to the commonest plight.

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Grapple

To constantly grapple with the past feels like strangling a mannequin, your hands sacrificed to false intimacy and the empty reaping of love’s labor by unreal standards.

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