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Oct 2011
I wake to a room lit only
by the pilot light of a fire;
one little flame that flickers
and makes the walls dance.
I am momentarily intoxicated
as I smell your empty shirt
and my heart dances
with the light on the walls.
I hold the pieces of you
tightly against my chest
and listen to the ticking
of a clock that just might
bring you home.
Melanie Beth
Written by
Melanie Beth  25/F
(25/F)   
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