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Oct 2018
i caressed the soft and smooth
pillowcase against my calloused hands,
to the one that whimpers
from the melancholy evening

tucking the sheets
to every corner,
concealing the unquestionable blues
from the painful perennial night

accustomed to the usual morning drill,
it already seemed ordinary,
typical, stagnant,
passive

sitting on the edge of the bed
i wept, repeatedly,
realizing i shed another
insignificant tear
Written by
theo bea
221
     Fawn and Bree
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