THE TILT

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No, I am not a glass
as I don’t preserve my mobility.

You make me tilt
for your potion.

You wonder
if those outer precipitations
are tears.

They aren’t yet
as I am still cascading
with birth, bloom and fall
into you.

It’s only
when you replace me back
to my origin

and my hollowness
waits for the re-recital.

That’s winter for me.

I am a glass now.
I don’t know which is better.

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