red string

do i let it go?

but if i can’t ….

the wanton kite

smells freedom

my spaces are open

i am the mountain my heart is the sea

yet it lurches

widening it’s arc

bumping and swooping

pointed corners

hit my brow

scratch my eye

turn my stomach

i cannot ignore my obstreperous kite

the flapping wings

wild

angry at me

for keeping it bound

under the windy whirring

I feel the tug of the red string

stretching tangling

winding around my waist in a dervish of excitement

i am a puppet to love

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