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Isabella Herrera Jan 2014
My throat tied to the ceiling, screaming your name

I refuse your isolation, but still indulge in its pain,

I’ll never look at the color green without seeing your eyes

how my sorrow befriends me as I think of you each night.

You must be happy, for you were the one who left,

I wonder what it’s like to hear the words you never said.

-i.h

— The End —