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viktoria
Poems
Jan 2013
hole
The way your eyes crawl back to
the same dream you put to sleep.
Their faces don't matter but
the way they hurt you hurts just the same.
At dawn, you open your eyes but
the dreamers are still holding your hand.
He might fill you up each night but
the hole still sits just below your sternum.
Very, very rough draft. I need help with a title, too!
Written by
viktoria
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