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 May 2013 Jessica Who
Nick Durbin
I am lost,
Only to be complete in my brokenness...
An imagination left to its fragments -
Almost methodically widdled down to dust,
My body left mindless,
My soul in shambles -
I am empty.

An uninhabited cup waiting to be filled,
A blank canvas needing paint -

Who am I to wander this world?
Who am I to love someone?
Who am I to exist?
Conformed from conversations, and endless thoughts during the morning hours.
 May 2013 Jessica Who
JM
It's only you,
my dearest, my darkest;
it's only your
soft voice I hear
in the small hours.

These lilac bushes breathe
your name and the soil listens,
remembering everything.

It's only a whisper
of rose oil and
amber, of silk and
skin.

Just a whisper.

It's only you
in the small hours.
 May 2013 Jessica Who
Nick Durbin
I sit, perched upon this star -
Watching the world change; evolve,
Sculpted in time, as if by the hands of Michelangelo,
Morphing this vacant, plain stone - into a beautifully crafted masterpiece.
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