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your hands are phantom,
i knew them before
they painted in violet
dealt in dangerous
kinds of embraces.

the house creaks
like summer storms
collapsing sky

but i no longer
want to be trapped
with your arms.


i don't want to hang
from your chest
a trophy
you never earned



because people
don't work like that.
©JordanWilson-Dalzell

— The End —