The door still slides

Rain. Wind. Usual. Still.
When the slide becomes a pattern and not a play
The friend who chose to stay
When others smiled and let the mirror end the sentence
I could never let go of the image
Rain. Still. Wind. Usual.
Breathing shortened by a helping hand
Hope diffused by latent branding
I was still looking how far my eye could really see
When you dropped the stone and laid the ground in front of me
So i caught the stillness and split the rain
Very windy in the most usual way.


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