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Untitled

It is the shape left

when something is removed.

I brush against

the outline of absence.

Not the grand language of devastation,

with its wailing and gnashing of teeth—

It is the unread book.

The show I cannot watch.

Places I dare not go.

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Written by

DissonantValues

33 / M / Florida

Published: 2h ago
LinesWords: 944

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