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like winter. She's a splinter stuck under his skin. Growing stubble on his chin. He shaves it off. But it rises like a nagging cough. Every night he sees her set like the sun in the west. She's a rolling tide rushing toward the shore, oil clogging his pore. Like a Purple Martin flying south, she'll strike like a cottonmouth. She's a disease that drops him to his knees. When he thinks he's over her wind stirs branches scraping his window pane. Drawing out his pain in beads of nightly sweat. He crashes like a jet.
0
16h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 7:30 AM UTC
She'll Return
like winter. She's a splinter stuck under his skin. Growing stubble on his chin. He shaves it off. But it rises like a nagging cough. Every night he sees her set like the sun in the west. She's a rolling tide rushing toward the shore, oil clogging his pore. Like a Purple Martin flying south, she'll strike like a cottonmouth. She's a disease that drops him to his knees. When he thinks he's over her wind stirs branches scraping his window pane. Drawing out his pain in beads of nightly sweat. He crashes like a jet.
SandyPoet
Written by
60/F/Boston
16h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 7:30 AM UTC
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