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Lonely box

Things circle and sway,

threads bare and fray,

I lean in to hear you

because I cannot clearly say

what this body knows.

 

Questions I pose,

frames I build

chaos ensnaring

What is your trick called, "caring"

 

A lonely box for each of us

blue. steel. cold.

Now it does rust.

Now, another day is sold.

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Written by
ann-beaver
Published
Jun 12, 2018
Lines·Words
13·56
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