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Apr 2016
a
silver-lined,
acute and astute
reflection
tells me that the
veins in my forehead will never replace
everything you've exhaled
to deserve a place to
rest your bones.

The cloud you sleep on
will never return,
but every drop that has pierced my skull
stays to sting,
singing sharply,
so that I may see color
once again.

--
to HBC
ahmo
Written by
ahmo  Portland, ME
(Portland, ME)   
578
   Woody, ---, Jocie and ---
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