Spring/Sprung.

A shitbeat about a little hope and a lot less cloud cover.

She works in fits and starts,

Breaks open buds, breaks open hearts.

Flat white and fuchsia contrast scream,

Her temper swells, falls, wild and green.

 

Primavera verdadera, la prima of my soul,

I wait for you to make me whole.

To thaw my blood, to thin the mud,

That cold and void congealed.

Awaken now your distant light,

‘Neath rays of you I’m healed.

 

That night eternal in the mirror

Falls far and farther behind.

Your joy, anticipation clearer.

Your pleasure, softness, love in mind.

Your verdant meadows, shot through with rain,

Leech strength from soon-forgotten pain.

 

The ache chased away by sunny skies,

Your yellows overwhelm the eyes.

Tears pale compared to hues uplifting.

From melancholy now I’m drifting,

Away from still and silent sorrow,

Winter’s gone. You are tomorrow.

 

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