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Jan 2015
My eyes lower themselves day after day
because they cannot take the heaviness of your absence any longer
they are fixated on your photograph
while the image of you dances on my frontal lobe
my lips are stitched together with pieces of your skin
I cannot speak of you
or my ears will infect with curdled milk from the mouths of neglected goats
at least you're in my pillow case
we meet almost every midnight
when you slip back inside the right side of my brain
and sleep abruptly without a sound.
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