How To Tell People They Sound Racist

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love is moving slowly across a room

you blow a kiss and that is why flowers
grow to reach into this thing called love
and be a part of everything infinitely
nothing and small
love is not large it is teeny
and small
like words whispered as sand
falling through fingers can’t
contain how tiny
they are unless your
hands are opened
and cup them together
we hold so much sand
and let it fall through
the cracks
we were never meant to
keep it all only
to enjoy its temporary
company

but when we are home
and the world is dark
you’ll still find some
under my shoes and
in my pockets.