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Dec 2018
A handful of water thrown like glitter to bead against reflective floors
Mirrors my cage in a hundred different ways
If I look closely enough I can see myself that free, that open
With every breath I taste the sharp tang of memories
That without you will never sit with sugar on my tongue again
Now I’m not blaming you or this wooden heart that bobs aimlessly without direction upon this endless see of caged reflection
Just exercising atrophied muscles with which I learn to stretch, to feel
Without drowning these polished plains I place cold feet on each morning
I am Alice here, skirts twisted above my head to obstruct the view
Although I know I do not wish to see it’s vast edges
Not unless they’ve painted you
Wanderer
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
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