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Aug 2015
I.

in my wrist
i have
no bird to sing
for autumn’s sweater;

II.

i still die
inside the songs
that anchor weight onto
his name.

III.*

I visit your mind
from the inside of mine
every night;

it is not my decision
Beatrix Salvador
Written by
Beatrix Salvador  Tundra Girl
(Tundra Girl)   
488
   NV
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