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Jun 2020
One shoelace

a few bolts

ticket stubs

a half of a picture

souvenir key chain from Florida

fragments

of him

tiny ghosts

tucked in the corners

so I always find him

never quite

let him go

always reappearing

clinging on to my skin

leaving the residue of his name
Written by
Amanda Hawk  42/F/Seattle
(42/F/Seattle)   
198
   Tryniti
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