Like the conch shell that fits in my palm
into which the ocean leaps
Like the flame at the end of a match
The second before it consumes a forest
Like the snowflake on a mountain
that melts into the river
Like this tear drop in the corner of my eye
That holds the weight of your loss
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Like the tail hair of a bull
That you hold on to go to the great beyond
Like the crescent shaped nail I bite off
With calcium passed to me from my great great great grandmother
Like the grain of sand at the bottom of the marina trench
That will one day sit on the top of a mountain
Like your palm in mine
Holding all
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