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Ann Beaver
Poems
Jul 2018
Grasping
The only thing that grows
is the space between.
You don't want what this body knows
questions pile up evermore
What does this mean?
Why don't you want me anymore?
On and on
this suffering plays
my heart is its song
I ask, "how long?"
it doesn't respond.
Written by
Ann Beaver
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T
and
life's jump
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