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Apr 2015
A little part of me breaks when I catch you leaving through your eyes to some place you'll never tell me about,
leaving your body living dead
and me to wonder what to do because I want so desperately to be your home like you are mine.
No matter what I do,
I don't feel like home
and that's maybe because I am not a safe place to live in.
My windows have been shattered
and someone stole the door,
the walls have been ruined with spray paint
and droplets of water spill through the cracks.
But when you're here with me,
it stops raining
and the broken crystals from my broken window dance with the sunrays,
making beautiful light art,
the door-less entrance lets butterflies along with pollen from beautiful flowers in
and the spray paint looks like it's fading.
Liz Delgado
Written by
Liz Delgado  Caribbean
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