The Fat Poet

The collection

too late

  • Late

    Late

    I only stand here now, in this small crossing of lives, aware that I am late, but not lost. Because something in me recognized something in you as if the universe, despite its endless distance, still knew how to bend two separate paths into a single moment.

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  • Too Late

    Too Late

    You resist, but you will remember me with each fallen leaf, each brittle crack beneath your feet. You will see me in the dying light, in the shadows that stretch too long, and you will wish you had held on tighter.

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