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Jul 2018
In the heat I hold my breath. I’m drowning in waves of sunbeams and guess as to whether the weather will wither me away in tiny droplets through the holes in my chair, collecting in puddles beneath, on the shadow hiding from a universal stare. I’m fair, unfairly treated, and in time this cycle is repeated and no one cares, like you did, now you’re not there, needed. I’m melted.
Written by
Bragi
232
   A
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